


Take Me To Your Best Friend's House

by lookingfortherainbow



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friend Louis, Coming Out, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, House Party, Inexperienced Zayn, Jock Liam, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, Underage Drinking, Virgin Zayn Malik, briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22893778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/lookingfortherainbow
Summary: He wasn’t making sense, he knew that. Nothing made sense anymore. Liam Payne was a subtle class clown and jock. Zayn was a loner, a drifter. That made sense.But Liam also liked kissing boys and wasn’t shy about it. Zayn had never kissed a boy, and he was more than just shy about the fact he was thinking he might love it.
Relationships: Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 57
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is meant to be a light-hearted read, even if it deals with coming out. It's meant to be humorous and easy-going, and it's a little self-indulgent because I'm a sucker for high school tropes. 
> 
> Fic title is from the song Tongue Tied by Grouplove.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

If there was something that Zayn Malik was known for around school, it was how chill he was with everything. He never really fit in with a clique at school, but he was no outsider. Simply put, he was a drifter. He’d get high with the stoners against the back wall of the school during study hall, wave a silent goodbye and join Louis’ group of theatre kid friends. A group filled with class clowns and hyperactive kids suffering from, what Zayn thought to be, undiagnosed ADHD. He’d check out the school newspaper, examining each piece and asking some of the kids that worked on it about it. Whenever there was an art show, he’d make sure to attend it, gliding through the rows of self-expression, stopping to give a few people compliments before slipping out the door. 

He wasn’t a part of any extra curricular classes or any sports, despite his mom’s pleas with him to try art or poetry, but when there were events that were happening related to those classes that were open to attend by the rest of the student body and public, Zayn was there. 

But if there was one crowd he’d never immersed himself with, it was the jocks. It’s not that Zayn particularly agreed with the idea that a label could wholly explain or define a person, but when it came to jocks, he never got any good vibes. Sure, they could appear to be good people every now and again, if a grand show of affection to their on-again-off-again girlfriends was anything worthy to go by, but he never cared to further investigate their world. 

Except for Liam Payne. 

Liam Payne who was known for his dry humor that got the class laughing, and was an underrated member of the basketball team.

To Zayn, he seemed different than the rest of his teammates, his high pitched laughter that didn’t fit the normal deep tone of his voice filling the classroom after making some of his best jokes. When he laughed particularly hard, his shoulders scrunched up to his face, and his eyes crinkled hard at the corners. Zayn had moved up a few rows in the one class he had with him, leaving his normal perch in the back row just to catch a glimpse of the sight. 

Though he got even some of the quietest kids to chuckle sometimes, he seemed to fly under the radar. Not a lot of girls fawned over him, even though he hung out with the jocks regularly, and he didn’t have a whole circle of people flocking to his seat at lunch or in class just to get to talk to him. 

That’s why when Louis, who was best friends with Harry, the popular linebacker for the football team, dragged him to Harry’s party after they’d won their game that night, he wasn’t expecting any of what he saw. 

“Hey, look, Harry’s over there. I’m gonna go talk to him, okay?” Louis said after they’d just walked into the crowded house, bass so loud Louis had to talk even louder than he normally did.

He was pointing to where Harry was clinging onto one of his teammates, clearly already well on his way to being drunk. 

“ _ Louis _ , you said you wouldn’t leave me,” Zayn reminded him, a hint of a whine in his tone, clutching to Louis’ arm. 

Louis rolled those sharp eyes at him and tilted his head, squinting and sighing as if to say ‘Really’?

“I don’t know any of these people, Lou!”

“Then come with me.”

“And be ignored?”

“Come  _ on, _ Zayn. You have no problem mingling at school. Do what you do best and spread yourself out, go smoke a blunt, if it’ll help.” Louis wiggled his eyebrows, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll meet up with you later. It’s just that I haven’t seen Harry in awhile.”

This time Zayn was the one to roll his eyes. 

“You literally saw him yesterday at school, like you always do. Why don’t you get married to him already, and move in,” Zayn grumbled, crossing his arms. 

Just then, Harry must’ve spotted Louis, because he called his name, dragging it out like he was in need, or something ridiculous like that. 

“Working on it,” Louis said to him before winking and sashaying across the room. 

Zayn knew he was being dramatic about being left alone, but he hadn’t even wanted to come to the party in the first place. When Louis had barged into his house and room, he’d been in the middle of a very deep, dreamless sleep. No party was worth losing sleep over. 

Swearing under his breath, cursing Louis for persuading his mom with his sweet talk and mischievous smile to let him into his room and wake him up in the rudest way possible. He knew he should’ve resisted buying him that air horn for his birthday. 

It wasn’t like Louis to abandon him normally, but he’d been getting more and more obsessed with Harry, and Zayn was powerless to stop his best friend. 

Pushing and clawing his way through the crowd, he finally made it to the kitchen, not hesitating in downing a few shots right away upon arriving, ignoring the pats on the back he got from people he was acquainted with. When he was gulping down a frothy beer, his stomach feeling bloated with the sudden intake of alcoholic liquid, he opened his eyes. 

The sight of two guys that were wrapped around each other at the other side of the kitchen, locked in what looked to be the hottest, messiest makeout session--if the way one of them was gripping the other’s ass and tongue was visible was any tell--wouldn’t have made Zayn choke if it had simply been two guys. But when that hand that was spread out and flexing on the other boy’s ass was attached to the well-built body of none other than Liam Payne, it was enough to make Zayn’s throat close up and sputter up the liquid he was pouring down it.

Recovering quickly, he set his cup down on the table behind him, his fingers subconsciously bending the plastic as his grip around it tightened. 

Because he’d seen Liam light up a room. He’d admired his quick wit and dry humor. He’d been jealous of the way he could run so effortlessly across a basketball court, maneuvering a ball while at it. He’d seen how excitable and dorky he could get in class. 

That’s why, never in a million years, did he expect to see him as someone with sexual energy, prowess. 

He stared hard at the two, Liam’s normally straightened and styled hair being mussed by the hands of the other boy. 

Zayn gulped. Why was the sight of Liam, who seemed so harmless, so incredibly sweet and unassuming all the time, manhandling the other boy intriguing him? Why was this a sight that he couldn’t look away from? When the two pulled away from each other, his gaze fixated on the spit slick plumpness of his lips, scarlet and raw from the other boy’s mouth. 

“Zayn! We were looking for you, how’ve you been, bro?” Zayn’s body got roughly pulled into a side hug, the tight squeeze a signature move of Harry’s.

Tearing his eyes from where Liam had turned the boy so he was trapped between the counter and Liam’s body, the two back to sucking each other’s faces off, he mumbled a hello to Harry and Louis who were looking at him curiously. 

“You greened out or something?” Louis asked, eyebrows raising in concern, despite the snicker escaping his lips. 

“Huh?” Zayn asked, then shook his head, staring down at the drink he was holding and taking a large gulp.

Placing his cup down, he looked up and shook his head at Louis before looking back to where Liam was. 

Well, where he  _ had _ been. Because he was gone now and so was the other boy. 

Suddenly, Louis was in his vision, crowding into him because his best friend had never learned the concept of a personal bubble and that you don’t go popping it. 

His hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him slightly, smirk gone completely now. 

“If you wanna go home, we can. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Shrugging Louis’ hands off of him, he shook his head again. “No. I’m just going to the bathroom.”

When he started to leave, he felt someone accidentally step on the back of his shoe, followed by the sound of a thud and a honking laugh mixed with Louis’ raspy giggling. 

“And don’t follow me,” he shouted without looking back, rolling his eyes at Harry’s clumsiness. 

He didn’t want Louis and Harry’s weirdness right now, and he didn’t think he needed a blunt or anymore shots. He didn’t need to piss, but throwing up sounded like a good idea at the moment, because what he’d just witnessed had made him feel way too many confusing things. 

“Nothing good happens when you’re woken up from a nap,” he mumbled to himself, shoving his way through everyone to the bathroom, which felt like it was miles away. 

His brain was in overdrive, and for once, he was thankful he hadn’t smoked anything because he definitely would’ve been getting paranoid right now. 

Liam Payne had been kissing a boy. A  _ boy. _ A human of the male gender. 

Most confusing of all, Zayn wanted to  _ be _ that boy. 

He finally reached the door to the bathroom, barging in and shutting it behind him. 

Relief, a reprieve, that’s what bathrooms were--

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Oh my god!” Zayn shouted back, scurrying so fast he rammed his funny bone into the door handle.

It was just his luck that he would walk into the bathroom that was occupied by Liam and his lover. And mid-blowjob at that.

“Fuck!” Zayn croaked, eyes still locked on Liam who was scrambling to pull up his pants, wide eyes alarmed as he stared back at Zayn. 

“Learn to knock!” Lover boy shouted.

“Learn to lock the door!” Zayn cried, his shoes slipping on the overly polished floor. 

Damn Harry’s wealth that was used on maids far too good at their job. The only solace he found in that moment was that Lover boy was also slipping on the floor, knees not finding traction. At least Zayn wasn’t the only one making a fool of himself in front of Liam, who was completely shell-shocked to the point of silence. 

Once he was out, he bumped into Louis. 

“I was gonna check to see if you were ok--”

“We’re leaving!”

“What? Zayn, what the hell’s happening--”

“Said we’re leaving!”

He was pulling Louis through the crowd, not caring about whether people’s elbows were going to leave bruises on his torso tomorrow.

“Are you ok?”

Silence was his answer. 

\---

Two Iron Man movies, three bowls of popcorn, and two root beer floats later found Louis and Zayn snuggled on opposite ends of Louis’ basement couch, Louis’s stinky, bare feet by Zayn’s head, and Zayn’s clean, socked feet by Louis’, popcorn littering the blanket they were under, leftover from the food fight they had between movies before. 

Zayn had fallen asleep at some point, and must’ve been too sleepy to remember when Louis put in The Incredible Hulk, because it was playing low on the TV. Even Louis had fallen asleep. Zayn looked at his best friend, lips curling up of their own accord at the sight of chocolate syrup staining the corner of his slack mouth, his normally carefully styled swooping do now sticking up in all directions. Zayn knew there had to be some chocolate syrup in there too, along with the hairspray he put in every morning. 

“No, Jimmy protested,” came soft words from his mouth, slurred. 

Endeared by his sleep-talking habit, Zayn rolled his eyes, grinning harder as he threw popcorn at the gaping hole that was his best friend’s mouth. He snickered quietly when Louis twitched with each popcorn that bounced off his cheek or nose, scratching at his face in his sleep. 

No matter how entertaining it was fucking with Louis, he still couldn’t get that image of Liam out of his brain. 

It was seared into his memory. 

He had his large, strong hand fisted in Lover boy’s hair, most likely guiding him to show how he liked to be sucked off. Zayn wondered how many times he’d done that, how many guys’ mouths he’d carefully fed his dick into, firm and sure. He wondered how many Lover boys he’d had up in his space in the bathroom at parties. He never thought Liam was capable of being that kind of guy before.

It was too much to think about in a sleep muddled state, his eyes lazily opening and closing, trying to clear his brain of Liam by filling it with the flashing images of a bulked up hulk. 

What made the least sense was that Zayn had drifted through almost every group and clique at school, he knew most of what was going on in school, even if he didn’t want to hear the rumors and ridiculous gossip. 

And no one had ever mentioned that there was a possibility that Liam was gay. 

Maybe he was bisexual. There was also the fact that he could just be messing around. It was just so public, the making out, right in the middle of the kitchen, like Liam couldn’t care less that most all the popular kids from school could witness him sucking face with another guy. 

_ Achoo! _

Zayn looked over, watching as Louis startled himself from sleep by sneezing. 

“Wha’. . .the fuck?” he slurred, looking at the piece of popcorn that had been by his nose like it was an alien object. It was a moment before he popped it into his mouth.

Zayn went back to watching the TV, and Louis made no further noise. It was obvious he was awake though, his stinky big toe rubbing Zayn’s temple, because that was just Louis. 

The credits were rolling on the screen, music the background noise to Zayn’s thoughts. He hadn’t said much since they’d gotten back from the party, but he could feel the words shoving and pushing their way past the anxiety that had built walls in his throat. The weight of the unsaid words, their arrival soon coming, was palpable in the air. Zayn knew Louis felt it somewhat, his big toe ceasing it’s irritating movement. 

Zayn felt like he couldn’t move or breathe. He was utterly paralyzed. Was this what people felt like in sleep paralysis? Like they were strapped to the surface they were laying on, and if they tried to open their mouth to scream all the worst things, creatures, would come to get them?

“You can’t just stay silent forever,” Louis spoke up from his end of the couch, voice raspier than ever with sleepiness. 

What kind of horrible creature would climb out of the TV if Zayn spoke his truth? Would the credits form the sentences he was trying to spew out of his mouth, and then slide out of the screen, black liquid creeping over the floor and climbing it’s way into his mouth, seeping into his lungs so he drowned in what he knew he needed to say.

“How’d you know you liked guys?” He blurted, softly. 

And that. He didn’t know if that was what he really wanted to say. Because he didn’t feel relieved, he still felt like gasping for breath. 

His chest was frozen. Silence was so thick in the air, he’d probably choke on it, if he even could breathe. Even Louis’ loose state was disrupted, Zayn could practically hear his muscles stiffen, his heart pump blood just that little bit faster. In the blue tint of the television light, he watched Louis’ head turn, curved eyebrows furrowed, creating a shadow on his forehead. It was Zayn’s turn to look away now. The light from the TV suddenly felt too bright. 

“I’ve told you before. . .When I came out. I knew since I was little.” Louis’ voice was careful, tone hesitant, questioning. Concerned. 

“Well. . .yeah. But you. . .did you ever experiment?”

A moment of silence.

“Before you came out? Like, did you think ‘I’m just curious’. And-and people were okay with that explanation if they saw you kissing boys.”

He wasn’t making sense, he knew that. Nothing made sense anymore. Liam Payne was a subtle class clown and jock. Zayn was a loner, a drifter.  _ That _ made sense. 

But Liam also liked kissing boys, and wasn’t shy about it. Zayn had never kissed a boy, and he was more than just shy about the fact he was thinking he might love it. 

“Are you asking ‘cause you want to know more about my coming out? Or. . .for yourself?” 

Shrugging, Zayn curled a bit more to the side, hating Louis’ laser gaze at that moment. 

“Was jus’curious,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket up, his words muffled by the soft material.

Louis’ hand began rubbing at his calf, reassuring, a point of contact Zayn could ground himself to so as not to be lost in the sea of words that swirled in his mind. 

“Ok.” 

They laid there, Zayn’s eyes slipping shut on him, the silence weighing them down. They laid there until Louis’ strokes slowly ceased. The movie had completely stopped, and Louis shut off the TV, the remote dropping from his sleepy hand onto the floor. 

Cloaked in the darkness, drunk on the peace that came with being hidden, the truth finally made its exit from Zayn’s lips, like a sinner that was slipping through the doors of a church, escaping the call to the altar in the most innocent way he knew how.

“Liam likes kissing boys.”

The clock ticked on the wall, echoing through the still room. 

“I think. . .I wanna be one of those boys.”

Silence followed, once again, and sleep called to him.

“You can be whoever you want to.”

It wasn’t until he heard those words, spoken in the softest tone he’d ever heard Louis use and felt a final gentle squeeze around his calf that he could finally fall into slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!
> 
> Check out the fic post and my tumblr if you'd like! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter up while very sleep-deprived. If it doesn't flow as well, that's why.

“Zen! Zayn! Hey, Mr. Bad Boy!” 

Zayn came to the next morning to a shrieking Louis far too close to his ear. 

Immediately, he lifted a hand to paw his best friend in the face, lazily pushing him away with a groan. 

The basement was dimly lit, the shades having been pulled up by Louis to reveal stormy weather outside. Typical fall weather. He stretched out on the couch, a grin taking over his face, eyes closing again. It was his favorite time of year, new beginnings floating down with every brightly colored leaf that fell from the trees. 

“Get up! Goddamnit! I’ve been trying to wake you up for the past three hours!” 

“Shuddup,” Zayn slurred, pulling the blanket up over his head. 

Fall might be the best time of year, but it was also the first semester of senior year, and he was going to enjoy the senior slump he’d started when he was in freshman year to the fullest. 

Suddenly, the blanket was ripped off of him and was replaced with Louis’ body weight slamming onto Zayn’s curled up form with a hearty thud. 

“You’re going to kill me!” Zayn wheezed, dramatically, slapping at Louis’ thick thighs clad in grey sweatpants.

“I thought you’d already died! Passed on to be with the gods above!”

Cringing at the shrill volume of Louis’ voice and how his ass was threatening to crack his ribs, he cried, “I’m going to, if you don’t move your big, fat butt!”

As quick as he’d landed on Zayn, Louis’ weight was gone, sitting cross-legged on the floor, resuming his video game he must’ve been playing since he got up. 

Zayn rolled his eyes, his friend’s erratic behavior too much when he’d just woken up. When his stomach let out a loud grumble, he clutched it. 

“Can we eat something?” he asked, wiping at his crusty eyes. 

Without looking away from his intense FIFA game, Louis threw a family-sized bag of doritos into his face. 

“Ouch!”

A packet of Oreos followed, slapping him in the eye. 

“I want to eat  _ breakfast, _ not be pelted with snacks,” Zayn grumbled, rubbing his sore eye. 

“Breakfast was three hours ago. You missed it. Now, if you had a meal, it’d be  _ brunch.” _

“Ok,  _ Jennifer,” _ Zayn snorted, pushing the snacks aside. “Can we have  _ brunch, _ then?”

The clock on the wall read ten-thirty. Still breakfast time.

“Go help yourself, I’m so close to hitting my high score!” 

“I don’t want to go upstairs alone,” Zayn whined.

“Why? Afraid my sisters will capture you and make you marry them in an elaborate ceremony where your guests are their barbie dolls?” Louis threw a devilish smirk over his shoulder at Zayn who was still sitting on the couch, rumpled from sleep. 

“Shut up. Besides, I’m not who they’re in love with. It’s Harry. Especially Lottie,” Zayn snickered. “Boy, will she be disappointed when he becomes her brother-in-law, instead.”

Giggling, Louis scored a goal on the screen, pumping his fist in victory and cheering. In a futile attempt to get his attention, Zayn stole the beanie off his head. The sounds of the game and the clicking of the controller continued in the otherwise quiet room. He loved mornings at Louis’ house, somehow peaceful even with the sound of his younger siblings stomping around upstairs, no doubt getting up to no good on such a nice Saturday morning. Mischief ran in the Tomlinson blood. 

“I bet Harry would be nice enough to go upstairs with me if he were here,” he taunted in a sing-song voice. “Invite him over.”

“I would, but he’s probably still recovering at his house with Liam after the party.”

That made Zayn sit stock-still, his fidgeting with the beanie ceasing immediately as his groggy mind replayed everything that had happened the night before. His stomach twisted and turned, and he felt like someone had installed a washing machine in his insides. 

“Do they sleep on the same couch together when they have sleepovers like us?” He asked, voice small. 

He couldn’t help but feel the bitter tightening of jealousy in his chest, hands clenching around the soft beanie fabric as he remembered Lover Boy’s position on his knees in front of Liam last night. 

Had he gone all the way with him last night? Did they have marathon sex? Liam seemed like the type to keep someone going even if they were sore and sleepy. 

His toes curled in his socks at the thought of being manhandled by Liam’s strong hands, pulling and pushing him how he wanted when Zayn would be too tired to do it himself, taking from him the pleasure he wanted. 

“I don’t know. I don’t exactly ask them how they position themselves. Sometimes Harry ends up blacking out drunk in the bathtub or the yard during a party, so I’m guessing probably not,” Louis laughed. 

“Hmm. Don’t you ever get jealous. . .Like, he gets really touchy when he’s drunk.”

Louis’ playing faltered for a moment, before resuming normally. “He wouldn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, but don’t you want to at least  _ check?” _ Zayn smirked, popping an oreo in his mouth. 

He could see the gears in his friend’s head turning.

“We should go sneak into his house and scare them both. I bet they’re still passed out.”

Watching Louis pause the game, his grin only grew wider. If Louis agreed to go now, Zayn would be able to calm his own jealous worries that he had no right to have over what Liam Payne got up to last night. At least Louis was best friends with and had a flirtationship with Harry. But Zayn barely even knew Liam, other than what he now realized was some very intense observing when they were in class together. And when he went to Liam’s games.

Still, the thought he slept with someone last night was haunting him. 

With much satisfaction, Zayn watched as the TV turned off, and Louis tossed the remote aside, standing up and facing him with a determined look on his face. 

“Get the water guns ready. We’re going on a mission.”

\---

“Follow me,” Louis whispered, holding the ginormous water gun up, crouching over it as Zayn, who held his own, walked behind him. 

The two had driven to Harry’s and were now creeping around to a large basement window where Harry’s bedroom was. With the fact that it was already broad daylight, Zayn knew they must look absolutely ridiculous, slinking around the house as if they really had a reason to. But it was all part of the fun.

Louis stopped abruptly once they reached it and Zayn’s gun ended up poking him in the butt. Steadying himself so as not to fall over from the sudden halt, he looked up to see Louis glaring at him from over his shoulder, blue eyes squinting. 

“Don’t. Touch. The ass,” Louis hissed, keeping his voice to an intense whisper. 

Zayn rolled his eyes. 

After he took a moment to peek through the half-shut blinds that were on the other side of Harry’s bedroom window, he motioned with two fingers to Zayn for them to keep moving. Zayn guessed that meant he didn’t want to break-in through Harry’s window. So, they creeped around to the back of the house, the yard dipping to reveal a sliding door that led to a large basement living area. 

Once again, Louis stopped abruptly, only this time he pivoted, hands flying around, doing odd motions, while his lips remained still. 

After letting the amusing act go on for awhile, Zayn reached out and secured Louis’ frantic hands in his. “Now’s not the time for you to do what teachers always tell you to and shut up.  _ Speak English,” _ he teased. 

“Follow me,” Louis said, finally. 

“Took you long enough to say two words.”

“Do not press me, Agent Malik,” Louis spat, adopting a snobby british accent.

“Do not test  _ me,  _ Agent Tomlinson,” Zayn retorted, copying his best friend’s tone and accent. 

Louis flicked a loose wrist up to his mouth, chortling into it, while Zayn grinned. 

“We’re going to ambush them. Harry always leaves the basement door open, for some stupid, unknown reason. On my mark,” Louis instructed. 

He counted down silently with his fingers, Zayn’s body building with adrenaline as he watched in anticipation. He felt like a cat ready to pounce. On the third count, they ran in, Louis’ high shrills so loud it was like he was making up for that short time during which he’d forced himself to whisper. 

Both boys were pumping the water guns furiously, but not even a few seconds after barging in, they were both tackled. Everything in Zayn’s vision became a blur of colors, he felt the uncomfortable sensation of water plastering his shirt to the skin of his torso, and more confusing than anything, a pair of muscled arms wrapping around him from behind. The body that was attached to the arms of whoever was holding him in what felt like a very tight bear hug, pushed him forward abruptly, which Zayn guessed was due to tripping over the plush carpet. Not having the strength to counteract the movement, he fell forward, the hard body that was behind him curling around him, one arm holding him tighter, as the other flew out to protect Zayn from hurting himself and from crushing Zayn as they both collided with the floor.

There was lots of shrieking and giggling coming from across the room. He identified Harry’s groggy tone mixed in with Louis’ dramatic, theatrical protests being yelled into the otherwise silent and empty basement. 

Frozen with curiosity and the alarmingly high probability that the mystery person on top of him could be Liam Payne, Zayn laid there, slightly crushed between a firm body on top of him and the floor beneath him. Even with the carpet being plush, it still felt rough against Zayn’s cheek, his breathing a little restricted by the angle at which his neck was bent and the fact half his mouth was pressed against the floor. 

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to almost break your neck, man,” came what most certainly was Liam’s voice. 

Zayn could feel the vibrations of his deep timbre against where his chest was pressing into his back. By this point, his heart was racing double-time. He felt trapped, slightly awkward, but also knew he wouldn’t run if allowed to. 

Liam grunted, and Zayn could feel the muscles in the arm not secured around his waist that was holding him up so he wasn’t flat on Zayn, bunch and tense as he shifted his weight. 

And that was when his eyes widened as Liam’s pelvis brushed against his ass. 

_ Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard,  _ the voice in his head repeated like a mantra. 

Because Liam was. Well, half-way there, anyway. And his hard-on had just brushed against Zayn’s very own ass. 

He’d only admitted last night to Louis, for the very first time, that he wanted to kiss boys. Namely, Liam. Now, he had Liam all over him, albeit accidentally, but the close proximity, and the fact he’d just briefly felt the hard outline of Liam’s growing erection wasn’t helping him keep his cool. In fact, his whole body had broken out into a sweat. 

Was it him or was it Harry’s heater that was probably gold-plated?

It felt like an eternity that he’d laid on the floor. But when Liam moved off him, kneeling on his knees, it broke him out of his trance, and he rolled over. This new position wasn’t much better. He could feel his cheeks grow hotter. Leaning on his elbows, he stared up at Liam’s face adorned with pillow creases, framed by his unstyled hair. 

Becoming acutely aware of his own dishevelled state, Zayn shifted, mouth slack as he drew in shallow breaths. His legs, still laying between Liam’s spread knees, twitched. The mantra got louder as did his heartbeat that was now roaring in his ears, when Liam leaned over him. 

The other boy didn’t break eye contact, and his expression was unreadable, but Zayn caught a whiff of morning breath. He was royally screwed if that somehow made him even more weak in the knees. Good thing he was laying down. 

“Just gonna disarm you, while I still have you pinned down,” Liam murmured, finally the corners of his plumps lips twitching up into a smile. 

As he pulled back, water gun in hand, he seemed to be studying Zayn. He felt like whimpering at the words, but he knew he needed to gain his bearings. Jutting out his chin, he propped himself up higher on his elbows. 

“Who’s to say that’s my only weapon?”

Liam rose to his feet. “Well, your looks alone are a weapon, but I can’t really disarm you of those, can I?”

Zayn felt himself flush harder. That wasn’t flirting, was it? Liam couldn’t be flirting with him. Holding out his large hand for him to take, Liam pulled him up. 

Louis’ triumphant shout startled them both, and Zayn looked over to see he’d scrambled out of Harry’s grip and carried through with his plan of drenching him in water. 

“That’s what you get for foiling my plan!”

Harry looked like a sad, sopping wet dog, his curls limp on his head, streams of water dripping off them onto the carpet. 

“How’d you even know we were coming?” Louis inquired, dropping his weapon.

“I was upstairs when I heard your car door slam just outside. I looked out the window and saw you lugging your huge water guns. I wanted to finally get ahead of you and your pranks. I saw my chance and I took it,” Harry explained, shrugging. 

Zayn could see why Louis found him adorable. Harry often tried to act cooler and older, no doubt to impress Louis, mostly, but it only made him look younger somehow, more vulnerable. 

“You saw your chance, you took it, and you still ended up soaking wet,” Louis replied, shit eating grin on his face. 

While Louis was asking whether or not there were others in the house, covering up his jealousy with nonchalance, Zayn sighed at the wet shirt still uncomfortably sticking to him. He was puzzled when Liam left silently to Harry’s room. Returning shortly, he offered a black t-shirt to him. 

“A peace offering. For practically breaking your back and getting you wet,” Liam explained, nodding toward the shirt in his outstretched hand. 

Did he have to talk in double entendres?

Relieved to be out of a wet shirt, Zayn murmured a thanks, walking further into the basement near the couch and whipping off his own shirt. It was accidental--the glance he took towards Liam, but seeing the other boy staring at him made him pause. Immediately, Liam averted his eyes, hand brushing at the back of his neck, head dipping to stare at the floor. 

As if that wasn’t enough to unnerve him, Zayn was suddenly surrounded by Liam’s sharp scent as he pulled the shirt over his head. This was all a lot to process in a day. And the worst part was that Louis was too wrapped up in Harry World to help him not completely freak out. 

If he wasn’t sure last night that he had a crush on Liam, he was definitely positive about it now. 

It wouldn’t be so awkward had he not caught Liam in the middle of recieving a blow-job, but he had. And he’d also made things a thousand times worse by just blurting out, “Have a good time last night during the party?”

Liam seemed to choke on his spit, but Louis picked up on what he’d just said. 

“Yeah, Harry, you have any guests who stayed past the time to visit?”

“No, it was just me and Liam. I told Liam whoever didn’t throw up last night would get to pick the video game we play.”

“Who won?”

“Me,” Liam replied, bashful about his win.

“Oh, thank god,” Louis praised, running to the couch and seeing that a basketball video game was already up and ready to play. “Now I don’t have to watch football on a screen. What is the appeal to that anyway, Harry? In real life, I love watching you play, but a video game? What’s the appeal in that?”

“Louis, you don’t even care about football in real life.”

“I do, too. I come to every game. How else am I supposed to admire your cute butt in those white pants for over an hour.”

Zayn resisted the urge to slap his forehead, mainly because he knew the reaction wouldn’t go unnoticed by Louis, and also because Liam kept glancing at him strangely.

“Well, what are we waiting for! Liam, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Louis, my shirt is soaked,” Harry whined, still standing near the sliding door. 

Whipping his head around, Louis adopted the look of pure shock. “Harry! How’d that happen?”

Zayn folded his shirt, aware of the fact Liam was walking over to him and Louis, now. 

“Take it off,” Louis demanded of Harry, tone now more commanding than theatrical. 

Zayn watched in awe as Harry quietly and obediently took off the shirt, fixing his hair directly after. 

“Well, that was easy.”

Zayn shivered, caught off-guard by Liam whispering to him, so close he could feel his breath on his neck. Louis’ attention was on the screen, picking his player, as Harry critiqued each one, practically sitting on top of Louis.

“They’re easy for each other,” Zayn replied. 

Liam hummed, noncommittally. “I can’t be easy for anyone like that.”

Once again Zayn was caught off-guard. He stood, stunned, wracking his brain for what to say in return when Liam walked away to get more controllers for everyone. Sitting on the single sofa chair, Zayn laid his arms across the back of the expensive leather, hoping to give off a relaxed vibe--one that normally came naturally to him. 

When Liam came back with more controllers, he passed behind Zayn’s chair, leaning over and gently placing the controller on his lap. The hair on the back of Zayn’s neck stood up, and every muscle in his body tensed as Liam leaned a bit lower to whisper in passing, “But you already knew that.”

And his heat was gone. Zayn watched as he handed Harry a controller, settling himself on the couch with Louis and Harry who were caught up in their own world, chatting and eating out of a giant chip bag. 

Zayn may have been sitting in his own chair, but he felt far too close to Liam still. The boy kept glancing at him, kept looking away when he’d get caught. 

Zayn couldn’t help his own staring. And the realization that Liam definitely remembered him from last night and the mortification he’d caused all three of them made him unsure of where to go from here. Because it was official. 

He had a big, fat, gay crush on Liam Payne. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story may seem like a bunch of filler chapters put together, and that's pretty much exactly what it is, haha. I'm letting my mind wander with this plot, for once. So far, I'm not disappointed and I hope you aren't either.

The day carried on as any normal lazy weekend would at Harry’s. Eating lots of junk food, playing video games, arguing over who were the hottest athletes in sports at the moment. 

“I don’t care what any of you dickheads say! David Beckham always has been, and always will be, the hottest player alive,” Louis proclaimed, as if he was giving a high decree from a king to his subjects. 

_ “Hey,” _ Harry grumbled, looking up at Louis from where his head was now laying on his lap, curls thoroughly mussed from Louis’ obsessive combing. “I thought  _ I _ was the hottest athlete alive.”

“Mm, well, I just don’t know anymore, cupcake. Liam’s an athlete, too, you know. You’ve got some real competition, to be honest. Especially since Liam actually looks like a young Beckham.”

Harry swatted at Louis’ arm, eyebrows furrowed so deeply he’d be intimidating if it wasn’t for how he grabbed Louis’ hand and placed it back in his curls immediately after hitting him. Zayn observed them from where he was laying on his stomach, on the floor of the basement, controller in hand, and neck sore from how long it’d been bent at an awkward angle to watch the TV screen. He was waiting for his high scores to be tallied, so he could afford to have his attention diverted by his two idiot friends.

If this was how annoying people got when they were in love, he wasn’t sure he could stomach himself if he indulged in the scary feelings he was starting to develop for someone in that very room. 

For quite awhile now, Liam had been engrossed in inspecting each and every potato chip that he happily placed into his mouth, perfect white teeth somehow never having leftover chip in them, jaw tantalizing as it clenched and unclenched with each deafening crunch of the snack he took. Zayn envied his ability to zone out, not even bothered by Harry and Louis’ obsessive, rambunctious behavior, even when they were jostling the couch so much that his chips would end up scraping against his cheek instead of going into his open mouth. 

Until Louis opened his smart mouth, jabbing Zayn’s foot with his big toe, teasingly asking, “What do you think, Zaynie babe?”

Zayn wasn’t sure what the hell was the point of that question, but if Louis was really trying to get some response out of him that he could use to not-so-subtlely signal to Liam that Zayn, at the very least, wouldn’t mind kissing him, he would give him no such material. 

Thankfully, he’d perfected the skill of keeping a poker face on. Being best friends with Louis had required him to, after all, saving him from many more embarrassing situations that he would’ve otherwise been forced into. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided on replying with, “Beckham’s pretty good-looking, I guess. I mean, he’s built and all that.” 

That was a normal thing to say, right? Any girl  _ or _ guy could see that--objectively--he was a conventionally attractive man. 

He felt Liam’s searing gaze on him, so he kept his own on Louis. 

Unsatisfied with his reply, Louis jabbed him a few more times as he flicked his hand at Zayn. “No, no, no, I  _ meant,  _ if you had to choose between Harry and Liam, who’d be the hottest athlete.”

The staring hadn’t stopped. In fact, Zayn could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Liam had slowly lowered the bag of chips in his large hand, crunching ceasing completely. Palms beginning to sweat around where the controller was resting in them, Zayn looked away, opting to focus on the video game, forgetting to look at how high his scores were. Looking busy would be sure to save him. Somewhat. 

“I don’t watch the games at school,” Zayn lied. 

He’d been to every one of Liam’s games, he realized--now that he’d just spewed out that ridiculous fib. By the scoff that he heard behind him, he knew Louis knew that was a lie, too. He simply hoped the noise spilling from the high-tech speakers of a crowd cheering in a virtual soccer stadium would drown out the noise. 

“That’s not what I asked! I  _ asked, _ who’s the hottest player.”

“David Beckham, jus’ said that,” he mumbled, trying to sound as distracted and uninterested as possible, thumbs and fingers clicking away on the controller. Thankfully, he scored a goal just then, cheering and hoping to make it seem more realistic that he hadn’t been really paying attention to Louis’ real question. 

“Alright, well! Sorry, Harold, you heard the man. Liam wins that contest.”

“He voted David Beckham, not me,” Liam replied quietly, and Zayn refused to believe the delusion that he heard disappointment in his tone. 

Harry’s petulant, _ ‘yeah’ _ , blended in, clearly upset at not being voted for. 

“You’re basically him. I say it counts,” Louis pushed.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause everything you say goes, huh,” Zayn scoffed. He felt Louis’ toes jabbing into him.

_ “Obviously.  _ My word is law,” he replied, theatricality layered on thick in his tone. 

Zayn’s thumbs failed him and the computer-generated opposing team scored a goal against him. “Damn it!” He hissed, letting his controller drop. 

His skin itched with agitation. He didn’t like how he was in front of everyone’s eyes, literally laid out for them to scrutinize. Most of all, he hated that Louis wouldn’t shut up about Liam. The tension in the air was growing thicker. With every second his clothes felt tighter and tighter on him. 

“I’m going upstairs to get water,” he announced, trying not to flee the room like it was on fire. 

When he was gulping down the glittering, immaculate water that he was suspicious came from the fountain of youth, or something bizarre like that, that rich people would do to maintain their luxurious reputation, he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“You okay?” 

He turned around to look the owner of the concerned voice in his eyes. In front of him, Louis stood, curiosity and concern evident on his face. 

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, placing his glass down, staring at the clear liquid still at the bottom. 

“Why’d you leave suddenly?” Louis pushed. 

Zayn sometimes wished he wasn’t so bent on getting direct answers out of him all the time. In favor of looking at Louis, he tapped at the glass with his blunt fingernail, enjoying the sound of it. 

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

“No. You’re going to have to elaborate.”

Crossing his arms and scratching at them absentmindedly, he glanced at Louis before looking at the floor. “You just--you kept making things weird. . .between me and Liam.”

“I wanted to break the ice with you two. Especially after your confession last night.” Louis’ eyes were sincere, apologetic. 

“You should’ve left it,” Zayn whispered, scratching harder at his arms. 

“Why? He was checking you out, you know. Looked like he wanted to eat your ass instead of his chips.”

Zayn cocked his head, eyebrow raising. “There’s no way he’s into me like that.”

“Pfft, please! I’m not blind!”

“Neither am I! And I could see that Liam wasn’t looking at me.”

“He was, too--”

“Are we five?”

“--And let me tell you, he was hoping you would vote for him.”

“No, Louis--”

“Like, seriously, I’ve never seen someone take so many small glances at someone within the short span of a minute”

“Louis, I--”

“And, to be honest, I think you should try coming out of your shell a bit--”

“Louis! He--”

“--Because it’s obvious to me he’s liked you for awhile--”

“I walked in on him getting a blowjob!” Zayn exclaimed. 

It was almost comical how Louis’ eyes widened, throating bobbing as he choked on air. They must’ve looked ridiculous, standing near the kitchen sink, both of them in shock, staring at each other with bulging eyes at the words that had just left Zayn’s mouth. 

Watching Louis blink rapidly, taking in the information, made Zayn grimace. He could hear the rustle of the trees in the wind outside, and it struck him that he’d never seen Louis so lost for words.

“What!” Louis shouted, startling Zayn so much he jumped in place. 

Groaning, Zayn pleaded, “Louis, be quiet.”

“Oh my god, you’re not joking,” Louis cried again, and Zayn watched in horror as curiosity and delight colored his previously blank expression. 

“Stop being weird.”

“Oh, I will. When you and Liam do. Fuck! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this! When did this even happen?”

Before Zayn could make up his mind whether to divulge that, Louis’ eyes snapped back to his, grin growing with every second. 

“Oh, my fucking god. It was last night, wasn’t it? At Harry’s party. Holy shit! In this very house. He better not have been in Harry’s room.” Louis’ demeanor changed to threatening as he spoke the last words, pointing a finger at Zayn. 

Zayn grabbed his hand, squeezing the finger back in place with all the others. “No, he wasn’t, god. He was in the stupid bathroom.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I’m trying to forget it. Despite the fact that Liam is making it hard for me, and now you’re going to ask me to elaborate on the whole situation.”

In response Louis led him by the hand to the breakfast bar, hopping up on one of the high black chairs nimbly, and setting his elbows on the marble table, hands cupping his chin, eyes imploring him to speak. 

Wearily, he climbed onto one of the chairs too, wincing at the feel of the cold marble. “What?” he deadpanned, staring at Louis’ puppy-like expression. 

“The floor is open. I’m waiting for you to tell me all about the experience.”

“Why the hell would I do that when I just told you, like, a second ago that I wanted to forget the whole thing.”

“Because processing something that caused you to realize that you might not be as straight as you thought is good for you.”

Zayn blinked, wondering why Louis had to switch things up on him so suddenly all the time. His wise words made too much sense.

“Also, I’m really curious,” he tacked on, and that made Zayn shake his head at him fondly. 

“Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Deal.”

“That anyone includes Harry.”

“Harry’s never a part of the ‘anyone’--”

_ “Louis.” _

Sighing, he stuck his pinky out. “Fine. You have a deal, Malik.”

Grin creeping up on his face, he intertwined his pinky with Louis’, the pact being made official. Once that official move had been done, he haltingly picked his way through the memory of Liam and Loverboy last night. The hardest part of it all, was the fact that it was still Loverboy that had been the one to be up close and personal in Liam’s bubble, and not him. 

Or maybe the hardest part was the fact that he realized he’d never felt so unsure about himself until he realized this attraction that had apparently been growing unchecked for longer than he probably even realized.

“So, if it makes you so uncomfortable that it happened and he obviously remembers you, then talk to him about it,” Louis suggested. 

“Are you crazy? And say what?”

“That it should’ve been you instead of that random douche.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that, the fact that you’re already wearing Liam’s shirt less than twenty-four hours after seeing him in the middle of hooking up with someone says a lot about how he feels about you.”

Zayn looked down at Liam’s shirt, baggy on his body. “You weren’t supposed to notice that,” he whispered.

Louis’ ever gentle hand landed on his, covering it, an act of comfort. “No harm can come from letting yourself enjoy these new feelings. It doesn’t have to be all mental anguish and anxiety. Though, to be honest, there probably will be a lot of that, too.”

Zayn looked up at him through his lashes. “Thanks,” he snarked. 

“I’m going to be here for you every step of the way,” came the reassuring reply. 

In these moments, Zayn knew he couldn’t have asked for a better best friend. He smiled at him, squeezing Louis’ hand in a silent thank you. 

“Hey, guys, Harry’s wondering what movie you wanted to--”

He looked over to see Liam standing in the doorway to the basement, arm frozen where it was bent to jab a thumb at the staircase, whole body stock-still except for his eyes that were darting rapidly back and forth between Zayn, Louis, and their clasped hands. 

“--Watch. . .”

“No more Marvel movies. We watched too many last night,” Louis pointed at Zayn, then turned to point at Liam. “And your voting privilege has been revoked, too. Superhero nerds,” Louis teased, running past Liam and down the stairs. 

“You like Marvel?” Liam asked, thawing from his frozen state, eyes wide, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. Zayn liked how delight looked on his face, light seeming to glow from the transparency in his eyes. 

He nodded. “And DC.” 

“Do you like Batman?” Liam ventured cautiously with the question. 

“Who doesn’t?” he grinned.

“The people I don’t associate with,” Liam replied. 

“So, in other words, you’d associate with me?”

“I’m trying to,” Liam mumbled.

This shouldn’t be so easy. If what they were doing really was flirting, and he wasn’t blowing things out of proportion, then right about now he should be running for the hills. He should be feeling a need to be locked away in his room, listening to music, painting, or sleeping. One could always count on sleeping. He wondered if Liam thought the same.

Instead, he felt content to sit in Liam’s presence, content to shove down the alarm bells going off in his head, telling him what he was doing was wrong. That he was wrong. Because he never did this. Flirted with a boy. But he couldn’t deny the full-body thrill he was getting out of simply discussing his interest in superheroes with him. Getting to watch his lips move, and notice every change in expression was enough to keep him glued to his seat. 

Without meaning to, he’d left Liam with no reply, and he noticed how his stance had shifted to one of rigidity, once again. 

“Um. I’m sorry about barging in just now,” he started, looking sheepish. 

“Huh?” Zayn eloquently replied with. 

“I didn’t--Um, I’m just saying, seems we both have a bad habit of walking in on people,” Liam tried again, awkward chuckle tacked on. 

Trying not to get distracted by the bulge of Liam’s bicep that flexed with every rub at his neck, Zayn grimaced, mumbling, “I was hoping you’d be too drunk to have a memory of that.”

“Hey, slowpokes, bring the puffy popcorn and some soda when you come down. The movie’s started!” Louis yelled from downstairs. 

It was as if both boys simultaneously had the same idea to use Louis’ command as an excuse to ignore the elephant in the room that Liam, once again, had brought up. It made no sense to Zayn why he was so insistent on talking about it. If the roles had been reversed Zayn would've rather acted as if nothing had happened. What was there really to be said about the situation, anyway? That he was a walking cockblock with terrible timing and Liam threw caution to the wind when it came to being private while receiving a sexual favor?

That was already noted. 

It wasn’t until they were walking down the stairs, Liam behind Zayn, each of them carrying the snacks requested, that he realized what Liam had been implying before. When they came to one of the landings, he turned abruptly, causing Liam to almost trip and fall into him again. 

“Wait, you don’t think Louis and I are, like, a thing. . .do you?”

This up close to him, he could see Liam’s pupils dilate with the dim lighting on the stairs, see how the pink of his lips were enhanced when he wet them with his tongue, saliva adding a glow to them. He fish-mouthed, eyes darting around like instead of focusing on answering the question, he was taking this opportunity to scan all of Zayn’s features. 

Zayn shifted, remembering how he’d barely taken time to make himself look decent before coming over, hoping whatever flaws Liam found, they wouldn’t be too grotesque. 

“‘Cause me and him are strictly friends, and Louis is basically already married to his best friend and ‘twin flame’, Harold,” Zayn chuckled, using air quotations and his best impression of Louis’ voice to make the bright smile he liked best on Liam come out. 

He was rewarded with a blinding grin and eyes crinkling gloriously at the corners. Relief never looked so good on anyone, Zayn thought. 

“I-I was just making a stupid joke,” Liam said, and Zayn squinted at him. “I know Louis and Harry are already planning their life together, even though they won’t make things official. I wouldn’t assume you and him were. . .together,” he finished quietly, tacking on in a quiet voice, “It’s not my business, after all.”

_ I’d like it to be your business, _ Zayn thought, staring at the boy in front of him who was so much more incredibly shy compared to the person he observed in class.

His bravado from before seemed to have been wiped away by the sight of Louis and him together, and Zayn wondered why he’d be so affected by him possibly not being single. 

After all, didn’t Liam know he wasn’t gay? Because he wasn’t. It couldn’t be, Louis was probably just reading him wrong and giving him the idea. But the fact he had to remind himself of that around Liam was starting to confuse and worry even him. 

Was this the beginning of the mental anguish Louis had spoken about? Because if so, he didn’t want it. He had enough of that already when he was sure he was straight. 

“Gee, I wonder where the snacks are!” Louis shouted, Harry’s goose laughter ringing through the whole ginormous basement. 

“God, they’re so  _ annoying,” _ Zayn mumbled, humor evident in his tone, turning quickly when he realized just how close his face was to Liam. 

“If you help me we can lock them in one of the secret rooms in this mansion Harry calls a house,” Liam chuckled, following Zayn as they continued down the stairs. 

“It’s a deal.” He shot a look at Liam over his shoulder, just to solidify the seriousness of their deal. 

His face was still warm from feeling Liam’s breath on it. 

\---

The next week passed by in a blur of lots of the mental anguish Louis had warned him about. 

When Safaa and him had curled up on the couch for a movie after they’d finished their homework on Tuesday, choosing Batman Begins, Zayn’s head began spinning. Had he always noticed how extremely ripped Christian Bale looked? How well the suit adhered to his body and showed off the hard lines and curves he possessed? Or was he just noticing all of this now because of all that talking he’d done with Louis. 

Either way, it made him feel strange, as if he was watching something he shouldn’t with his sister sitting next to him, as if he was creepy for even looking at the actor on-screen.

On Thursday evening, when the family was having dinner together, the girls were giggling about some new guys that had started at their school. Picking at his food, eyes downcast, Zayn wondered if he’d ever really felt that obsession with any of his crushes, that kind of stomach-fluttering, mind-consuming, soul-awakening kind of crush that overwhelmed your whole mind and body. In comparison to how Liam was starting to make him feel, all his crushes were mediocre. 

Aside from all the stupid little flings little kids have, there was Perry, but everyone was obsessed with her, every guy, thinking she was so cool and different compared to the other girls in their class. That was freshman year when everyone started becoming more aware of what feelings were for another person. Zayn had supposed he should have feelings for Perry, too. 

In Sophomore year there was Gigi. Zayn hoped to never relive that. That year, Gigi had been signed to an agency, and with each pound she lost, she seemed to gain another attention hungry follower at school. Suddenly, out of nowhere the whole school had decided Gigi and Zayn belonged together. 

Initially, he had decided to not comment on the rumor they were secretly dating, but when Gigi invited everyone, including him, to a big house party he decided to go, because he hadn’t had that many party experiences yet, and everyone had been saying how amazing it’d be. So, him and Louis went, Harry in tow, getting stoned off their asses as soon as they’d arrived. Not much could be recollected from that memory now, but he distinctly remembered the sickeningly sweet cloud of Gigi’s perfume and how it made him nauseous when she leaned in to kiss him, how he was agitated by the sound of her voice and how much he couldn’t wait for the kiss to end, even though she was an objectively good kisser. Zayn could see she was attractive, and he could see why she’d been signed as a model, but he never let anything between them progress, no matter how much people around him made it out to seem as if he was making a mistake. 

He never liked how she treated other people, and no matter how much all his peers deemed her to be drop dead gorgeous, that didn’t change the fact that Zayn never felt any spark with her.

As far back as he could remember, he never understood the obsession with romance and relationships. He loved his creative quiet time, enjoyed goofing off with his sisters, his parents, loved getting up to no good with Louis. Being with someone had always seemed so lacklustre and pointless, a waste of time when he could be doing a plethora of other things. 

Despite the rumors his peers made up about him over the years, Zayn had never had any serious relationships or even lost his virginity, which only Louis and Harry knew, ending things with any potential lovers on account that he had better things to do.

Now, he was wondering if there was more to it than that. 

“Sunshine, aren’t you hungry?” his mom’s voice asked. 

Zayn looked up from where he’d turned her delicious rice and curry dinner into a complete orange mash. 

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make baby food out of it. It’s good, as always.”

Trisha smiled, patting his hand. “Just want to make sure you’re alright. You’ve been so reserved, lately.”

Shaking his head, he popped a spoonful of curry mash into his mouth, giving his mom a thumbs-up. “Nope. I’m good.”

His mom gave him a concerned smile, brushing his hair with her fingers soothingly. 

Just as he was re-focusing on a story his dad was now telling, his phone rang, the shrill noise startling everyone.

When he picked up, Louis’ voice practically blew out his ear drum, his friend yelling a greeting into his phone. 

Quickly, he asked to be excused from the table, Louis’ voice ringing through muffled, yelling about god-knows-what. 

“. . .Or are you jacking off, right now?” Louis wondered, when Zayn put the phone back to his ear. 

He rushed from the table, hoping no one had heard that last bit. 

“No, Louis, god, shut up,” Zayn pleaded. “I was eating dinner with my family. They probably heard that and now, I’m mortified.”

“I always forget you have dinner so late. It’s, like, eight. Anyway, I can send you some good links for later if you do need to get some tension out.”

“Ew, gross, what is wrong with you,” Zayn groaned. 

But then he heard Harry’s honking laugh and knew he’d been put on speaker phone. That explained the ridiculous joke. Louis would do or say anything to make him laugh. 

Zayn couldn’t blame him, because he was starting to feel the same about someone else, too. 

“Hey, Liam, have any good porn links?” He heard Louis ask from farther away, Harry’s giggles in the background. A moment passed. 

Liam was with them? Zayn pulled at his hair, his jaw ticking as he walked to his room and wondered what he thought of Louis’ phone call to him. 

There was the muffled sound of a deep voice that sounded far from the phone mixing with Louis’ raspy one.

Then, there was rustling, and soon after, Louis was shouting, “He said to look up--”

A thud sounded through the speaker, and Zayn heard muffled arguing voices, unintelligible. Then the sound was clear again, except now, there was the whooshing of air with Louis panting from running and shouting, “He said to look up ‘Jock Shows Twink a Good Time’!”

He could hear Liam’s protests, voice coming closer. There was a shriek from Louis, and the sound of the phone dropping was the last thing Zayn heard before the line went dead. 

Lowering his phone slowly, he sat rigidly on his bed. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. 

He gave himself a few minutes to think about the situation, but any explanation he thought of didn’t make sense. 

His gaze landed on his open laptop on the bed, screen black from misuse. Shaking his head at himself quickly, he got up and went back to join his family at the table. 

\---

He really thought his curiosity would tamper down as time went by, but it was now two in the morning, and all Zayn had done was overthink everything he’d ever done, getting more and more tense. 

Louis’ shouted words ricocheted off the walls in his brain, echoing over and over, deafening him to the point he couldn’t hear the sound of the keys on his laptop clicking as he typed the words in his brain out into a search bar.

He was sick of thinking, the war in his head already driving him insane. It had only been a few days since The Bathroom Incident, and Zayn was already using masturbation as a coping mechanism.

Things were Bad. 

He clicked on the first video that came up, barely reading anything, part of him far away, pretending like he wasn’t really doing this. 

He had his long sweatpants on, a thick sweater covering his torso, his body snug under his comforters. Normally, the blankets, at least, would be thrown to the side, because Zayn got hot when he worked himself up. But not this time. The bright blue light from the laptop was already making him feel too exposed, and he purposefully kept his eyes glued to the screen so he didn’t have to see the blankets rise when he moved his hand to rest just under the waistband of his boxers, stroking the skin that stretched over his hipbone. 

Of course, that only forced him to take in the sight of two young boys, one leading the other, who was sweaty and in a jersey and sports shorts, into his room. 

Porn made Zayn feel awkward. He never really watched it. His brain was creative enough to give him the thoughts he needed to make himself come. Licking his lips, he fast-forwarded to a random section, wanting to skip the sad attempt at a storyline that was making his libido fall.

Only now, he was startled by the deep groan that flooded his cranium, both boys naked and laid out on the bed, the jock sinking his dick slowly into the boy who was, apparently, supposed to be the twink. The close-up sight of it, how the twink’s asshole was stretching and swallowing the other boy’s long cock, made Zayn’s own twitch. When his hand automatically wrapped around himself, he gasped, shocked at the strong pull of arousal in his stomach, and how fast the image of the jock slowly thrusting into the other boy, who was whimpering, had made his dick hard. 

It usually took him a lot longer to feel like he was on the verge of coming.

His mouth went dry, and his grip tightened with each stroke over his length at the sound of the jock’s deep voice murmuring encouragements and adoration in the sweetest and filthiest way. 

Zayn’s elbow slipped on the bedsheet, his body flopping onto the bed, head sinking into the pillow as he let himself pant up at the ceiling. The sound in his headphones of skin slapping against skin made the ache in Zayn’s balls worse. When he chanced a look back at the video, he squirmed, sweat breaking out over his body as his eyes took in the straining muscles on the jock, who was now holding the other boy’s wrists near his head in a tight grip, keeping eye contact as his hips kept their deep, steady thrusts up. 

The rhythmic cut off moans from the video mixed with the cut off whimpers that fell unwarranted from his own lips when he looked up at his ceiling and saw Liam hovering over him, exactly how he had at Harry’s house. 

Zayn’s legs drew up of their own accord, and his eyes fluttered shut as he yearned to feel the solid, comforting form of Liam’s body shifting between the peaks his legs made. He knew he could make Liam realize his tight, untouched body could give him something so much better than whatever mediocre pleasure he’d gotten from Loverboy. 

“God, yeah. Such a good boy for me,” the jock groaned, full-bodied and hoarse, and when Zayn looked back it was to the sight of the twink’s legs pressed straight up against the jock’s hard torso, hands slapping against the sheets, helpless as pleasure took over him. 

Zayn’s whole body was wracked with the power of his sudden orgasm, legs shaking and left hand scrabbling to stuff his comforter into his mouth to mute the ungodly moan ripped from deep inside him. 

Thick hands, straining biceps, full red lips, brown eyes--the images flashed behind his eyes, as he wrung out the last few drops of come, stroking until he jerked from oversensitivity. 

His chest rose and fell with the speed of his breaths slowing, letting his length soften unagitated as he went back to scratching at his hipbone. 

Despite the wetness in his boxers, his eyes slipped shut, uncertainty creeping into him again as sleep took over. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the last chapter I realized I spelled Perrie as Perry. And I'm not going to change it. Because all I can think about is Perry the Platypus and it somehow makes it better. 
> 
> This chapter was written in a day and I'm sorry if it's lackluster. I tried my hardest. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“. . .And because of that we have the excellent literature we get to study every day here in class--Zayn, do I really need to put Liam on sleep-watch for you to not doze off in class?”

Zayn’s head felt heavy when he lifted it up from where it had been slumped against his arm on his desk. 

Blearily, Zayn took in his surroundings. Damn, that was his third time being caught sleeping in this class alone today. He’d even chosen the backseat this time, and Liam, who apparently had been trying to shake him awake before he’d be caught had, for some reason, chosen to move back with him. 

That simply was not how things were supposed to go. 

“No, Mrs. Ludgate, I’m fine. Promise, I’ll stay awake. Sorry,” he slurred. 

Which he was. English was his favorite class. But it was too early for this--for Liam. Too early to be breathing in his natural boy scent that was wafting off his hoodie, warm and comforting. He smelled so good, he was inclined to twist his head and bury it in the material. Liam’s arm was still outstretched, hand still on Zayn’s shoulder which had been what was shaking him awake. 

He was close enough for it. 

“You better. Liam, please keep an eye on him for me,” Mrs. Ludgate commanded, smattered snickering echoing through the class. 

“I am,” Liam murmured, softly. 

That, simply, was not the appropriate response, Zayn thought, eyebrows furrowing at Liam.

“Not necessary,” Zayn murmured back, sluggishly shrugging Liam’s hand off of him. 

If he didn’t, Liam would be at serious risk of intrusive sniffing, and possibly, being bitten. 

It wasn’t his fault Liam’s natural pheromones were enticing enough to make Zayn’s mouth water, nor was it his fault that Liam’s strongly veined hand looked perfect for sinking his teeth into. 

“Are you  _ high?” _ Liam whispered, leaning closer, eyes studying his face. 

Zayn could’ve sworn there was a look of hurt on his face at the removal of his hand, but the question was blurted so quickly he was sure he imagined it.

With how close Liam’s face was now, Zayn’s eyes shifted to the birthmark on his neck, and that looked like a  _ far _ more satisfying part to bite into. 

Oh, god. He had the munchies for Liam. Was it any coincidence that ‘cannibal’ was so close to the word ‘cannabis’? Zayn made a mental note to look that up later. 

In truth, he was really starting to worry about Liam’s safety, because the longer his bubble-gum breath lingered on Zayn’s face, the more he stared at his lips that looked as red as cherries, begging to be nibbled on. Why did he find it so cute that Liam chewed actual bubble gum? He wished he was chewing it now, just to see how his tongue would maneuver it around his mouth--and, god, when did weed make him this horny?

“Hot,” he slurred, eyes still trained decidedly on Liam’s lips, as if staring at them would give him any more of a chance at actually having them on his. 

His body felt like it was overheating, and he wondered if it was Liam’s proximity to him or a broken thermostat in the room that was causing sweat to bead on his hairline. 

“Well, yeah, I know you’re hot, that’s apparent. But are you high?” His eyes were starting to crinkle and his lips were twitching around the words, and that was just the worst, because cheeky, confident Liam made Zayn want to beg for filthy things to be done to him. 

As his brain caught up with the subtle compliment thrown at him, Zayn’s whole body tensed. 

After waking up that morning-- _ hard _ \--from dreams about Liam, the kind of dreams that make you not even want to look your best friend, who recommended porn to you, in the eye, Zayn knew what had to be done. 

Before leaving the house, he smoked so much weed his own brain wouldn’t know the order in which ‘L-G-B-T’ went, much less be able to form a coherent thought about dicks and how much he wanted to suck one--Liam’s in particular. 

What was gay? What was straight? What was being attracted to someone? Zayn didn’t know. All he knew was that he was high. That was all that mattered. If he absolutely  _ had _ to label himself as something, then he’d call himself a stoner. Because that label didn’t take  _ mental anguish,  _ and _ coming out,  _ and  _ finding his place _ among his peers when he didn’t even feel he  _ fit anywhere _ in the  _ first place _ .

No, he was a stoner, and he was stoned. That was all that mattered. 

Until Liam had apparently slipped into class late and decided sitting next to a dozing Zayn was a brilliant idea, designating himself as his alarm, and making last night’s lust-hazy thoughts crop up in Zayn’s head. 

Apparently, he had never known what true attraction to someone else was. He’d been high more times than he could count in the presence of girls, girls who all the guys were after, girls who’d made a move on him, and never--not  _ once _ \--had he had such a suffocatingly strong urge to tear his clothes off right then and there. 

“Fuck,” he spit, moving his head slowly away from Liam’s, whole body swaying with the movement. 

There had been a question he was supposed to answer, but he couldn’t remember what it was anymore.

He didn’t like how dark Liam’s eyes were getting, how slowly his tongue soothed the cracks on his lips, leaving a wet sheen behind, how his neck was tinting with red, making his mark stand out further. 

So, Zayn did what he knew best to do. Flopping his head back onto his arm, he pretended as if the world didn’t exist, he was all alone, and the pressure building in his stomach was a rock he’d swallowed and not arousal causing his dick to twitch with interest. 

He thought he’d be safe pretending the world wasn’t a real thing, that Liam was just an illusion.

But that all went to shit as Liam’s thick fingers slid their way up the buzzed section of his hair and into the longer section on top. His knuckles curled and Zayn’s short locks were firmly gripped as Liam pulled both his head and shoulder up so he was in a sitting position. 

Zayn couldn’t help the gasp that erupted from his mouth, eyes wide, chest heaving as he slumped against the back of his seat. 

It hadn’t been a sharp tug or jerk, nothing that would hurt him, but it was teasing.

The small tug that began at the top of his head caused a strong thrill to run down his spine, causing a small noise to escape from high in Zayn’s throat before he cut it off quickly. 

Zayn tried to get his breathing under control. Swearing at himself silently, he wished, now more than ever, that he was sober. As it was, his inhibitions were lowered as his libido rose to greater heights even he was unaware they could get to. 

“I didn’t want you falling asleep again,” Liam explained, breathless. 

When Zayn looked over at him, he saw all the things he was feeling inside mirrored on his face. Shock, arousal, excitement. Clearly, Liam hadn’t been unaffected by Zayn’s reaction, judging by how big his eyes were, how his mouth wouldn’t close around his short breaths. 

Blinking slowly at Liam, he resisted the urge to close his eyes, feeling more drugged with each second in which Liam’s grip subconsciously tightened in Zayn’s hair. His thoughts drifted to that damned video last night, how good it was to imagine Liam above him. 

Until his cock twitched again, he didn’t realize he’d been sitting fully hard for, at least, a good whole minute. 

“Holy shit,” Liam hissed, and Zayn flushed hot and red as he saw that his eyes had landed on his lap. 

Alarm bells sounded in his head, and he reached up, still gasping for breath, eyes locking on Liam’s. Cautiously, he removed Liam’s grip on him, setting his hand down on Liam’s own desk. 

“I can stay awake on my own,” he said, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It came out hoarse, like there was something built up in it that hadn’t been released. 

As if waking from a daze, Liam blinked rapidly, suddenly stuffing his hands into his hoodie as his face fell, and he mumbled, “Right. Sorry, Zayn.”

Immediately, the euphoria he was previously experiencing was washed away by gut-wrenching anxiety. Because Zayn loved the way Liam said his name, but he never wanted it repeated in that tone again. 

Some things had to be done, though, whether they were harsh or not. Distancing himself from Liam was one of them. 

\---

Lunch was a welcome relief from the horrors of that morning, and Zayn found comfort in the chaotic movement and erratic conversation that flowed unbounded from the tornado that was Louis. 

Louis had a lot of other amazing qualities to him that Zayn cherished. The way he could pull a laugh from Zayn no matter his mood, his quiet nature that only the luckiest ones got to see, the unguarded way he tried to help others out, the gentle acts of love he showed to his family. 

It was contradictory and beautiful, and Zayn wished it didn’t remind him of Liam. 

From across the cafeteria he could see Liam slapping his teammate’s ass as he had bent over the table to steal a nugget. He laughed loudly with the other jocks, eyes crinkled so hard when one of them held him in a chokehold and roughed up his hair, that they were slits. 

Adorable slits. Slits Zayn would kind of like to kiss. Maybe. Platonically...obviously. 

In awe, he watched as Liam, once freed, flicked his head with such force, all his hair went back into place. He wished he would do it again. 

“Why is Harry all the way over there, and I’m all the way over here?” Louis whined, sitting in his seat and pouting around a chocolate chip cookie. 

“I don’t know,” Zayn replied. “Probably because he’s talking to his  _ jock _ friends.”

“Why’d you say it like that?  _ ‘Jock’ _ friends. That’s how  _ I’m _ supposed to sound.”

“How do I sound?”

“Like you’re jealous,” he smirked, eyes glinting. 

Zayn scoffed. “I am not jealous over Harry, you weirdo.”

“I wasn’t talking about Harry. The name starts with an ‘L’ and ends with an ‘M’. Don’t even try deflecting with me.”

“I’m not jealous over him, either. I just think he’s being weirdly crazy right now. He wasn’t this energetic in class this morning.”

Squinting his eyes, he watched as one of the jock’s girlfriends sat on the lunch table so she was facing Liam, her arm reaching out to play with his hair, which just caused him to flip it back in place again. 

Zayn tensed. Why was everyone and their mother playing with Liam’s fucking hair, except  _ him. _ Even more maddening, was how one of the football players, Brad, Zayn thought his name was, came up from behind and started talking to his girlfriend, chin hooked over Liam’s shoulder and hands roaming his torso. Liam, of course, looked adorable and comfortable as ever, and Zayn wondered how a human being could resemble a teddy bear so much. 

“What the fuck?”

“C’mere. I have a plan,” Louis said, cryptically. 

“Whatever it is, it better be good,” Zayn said. 

When Zayn realized they were walking directly to the lunch table, he immediately regretted following Louis. 

“Fellow man,” Louis started out in that theatrical way of his. “Have you heard of Harry’s party he’s throwing tonight?”

Zayn tilted his head at Louis, confused, because there’d been no talk of a party before now. 

“What part--” Brad started before Louis slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes not leaving Harry’s. 

Zayn could’ve sworn he could see the telepathic messages if he looked hard enough. 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be sick!” Harry fibbed, back straightened as his eyes lit up. 

If there had been a party before now, Zayn would’ve known about it. He just hoped they could organize one in such a short time.

Finally, Brad managed to pull Louis’ hand off of him. “Get your boyfriend under control.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry replied. Zayn almost wanted to laugh because he was looking directly at Louis with the biggest love-sick expression one could imagine. 

“Well, shit. You guys sure do kiss enough to call each other that. I don’t even make out with Chelsea that much, and she’s my girlfriend.”

“Bradley, please, save that for your couple’s therapy _ , _ ” Louis snarked, already roping Harry into his arms. 

Zayn was pretty sure he forgot why they’d even come over here. He sure as hell didn’t know.

Through all the chaos, Zayn hadn’t realized Liam’s eyes on him, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes as he looked up from where he was sitting. 

Zayn felt warm, like when he drank brandy, whole body buzzing with relaxation. Only, Liam’s eyes fell when Zayn caught him, and a dark expression fell over his face.

“Well, it better be a good-ass one, because me and Liam are gonna be on fire tonight. I can feel it, man,” Brad slapped Liam on the back, voice full of bravado. 

“Whatever you say, bro,” Liam shrugged, eating his chips slowly. 

“Sure, you will be,” Louis said, encouragingly. 

Where Liam got comfort, Zayn got an impatient head nod. Zayn wanted to tell Louis that he wasn’t Harry, and no matter how close they were, he’d never be able to communicate like that with him. 

Or, maybe he just didn’t want to do what Louis was urging him to. 

“We’ll be there to cheer you on, Li. And afterwards, we can all get wasted and celebrate!” Harry tried. 

“You’re all gonna be there?” Liam asked, looking up at Louis and Harry, before his eyes shifted to Zayn. 

There was an awkward silence, and Zayn shifted on his feet before Louis finally answered, “Yeah, Li, all of us.”

“Cool,” Liam mumbled, getting up and walking off, not bothering to throw his remaining food away. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Brad asked. 

“He’s been down all day. I swear, mentioning that party almost made him worse,” Brad mumbled. “He better be set come gametime.”

“Sometimes, that’s not the most important thing,” Louis said. 

\---

“Care to explain?” 

Louis had dragged Zayn up to the school’s roof after lunch, no words spoken. The roof was one of their favorite spots to go when they were playing hookie and wanted to get high somewhere they would never be noticed. 

“Care to explain what?”

“Zayn. Cut the bull. Seriously. Don’t pretend you didn’t see what Liam was like before.”

“And that’s my fault?” 

“He was literally begging with his eyes for you to answer that you’d go to his game, and you gave him silence. If that were me, I’d feel pretty shitty, too.”

Tears started to prick at Zayn’s eyes, and he walked away from Louis, leaning over the side of the roof’s ledge. Moments later, he felt Louis’ presence beside him.

Louis placed a hand on his back, soothing, rubbing up and down. Zayn closed his eyes and focused his mind on the rhythmic sensation. 

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget what it’s like to realize, at first, that you’re not straight.”

At that, a sob tore through Zayn. His body shook as he cried silently, eyes squeezed shut so hard, colors were flying behind his eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, babe,” Louis shushed, pulling Zayn tightly into him. 

“I don’t  _ want _ to be gay,” came his hoarse, muffled reply.

And there. The words were out. It wasn’t a denial. In fact, it was a roundabout confession. A horrible confession. He was gay, but he didn’t want to be. 

What would Louis do with that? 

“Why do you say that?” Came Louis’ soft reply. 

“I’m--I’m just. . .I don’t know what to do,” Zayn sniffled into Louis’ shoulder. “I just want to be me.”

Louis took Zayn by the shoulders, the boys entwined by how Zayn didn’t unwrap his arms from around him. Zayn looked into his eyes, finding comfort and wisdom in his gaze.

“Here’s what you’re not gonna do. You’re not gonna shut someone out who you seem, from my perspective, to have feelings for. You don’t have to pursue anything past being friends with Liam, but don’t shut down even that possibility. I think Liam would take anything over not knowing you at all.

You’re not going to stop telling me how you feel, because if you do, your mind’s gonna convince you you’re all alone. And you’re not. You’ve got me, Harry, your sisters, your parents.  _ Liam. _ Zayn, we all love you. And no matter what your orientation is, that doesn’t change the core of who you are. You’re still Zayn, through and through.”

Zayn nodded, wiping at his eyes. 

“You’re still going to be ridiculously talented at art, at being a social chameleon. You’re still going to be  _ way _ better at skateboarding than me. And you’re still going to love sleep more than anything in the world. We’ll just know, if and when you tell us, that you also happen to like guys.”

“How do you make it sound so effortless?” Zayn let out a watery laugh. 

“‘Cause if you have me, it’s gonna all go down as smoothly as possible. And if you don’t resist what feels natural to you, that’ll make it all the more easy for you. Like, when you first look at Liam what comes to mind. First thing. Go!”

There was a pause, and Zayn’s lips quirked up, picturing Liam and all the little things about him Zayn had come to adore in such a short period of time. 

“I want to kiss him,” he whispered. 

“Ok,” Louis nodded, grinning. “Then forget about everything else. Say fuck it, and  _ run _ with that.”

Zayn smiled a bit bigger, feeling it spread, tears still streaming. “I think I’m. . .gay, Lou. And I’m  _ really _ scared. And Liam--Liam makes me feel a  _ lot _ of things.”

And saying that made his chest lift. He felt like an air balloon, so light he could float, and all he needed was the answering squeeze Louis gave him. The simple, nonverbal confirmation that he was heard. 

“I mean, it makes sense. You’re my partner in crime. Crime is all that us gays do.”

Zayn laughed at that, and Louis smiled at him, and Zayn was still scared, but he wasn’t as scared anymore to kiss Liam. 

He wanted to  _ run with it.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play Ready To Run by One Direction. 
> 
> All your kudos and your comments are so motivating and I read them over when I feel discouraged. Thank you so much! <3
> 
> Check out the [fic post here](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/post/616386223209119744/andtheywerebandmates-take-me-to-your-best)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for posting a day late. Better late than never though right?

The echoes of a buzzing and yelling crowd in a gym never failed to make Zayn’s ears hurt. He was sensitive to sound, he hated the buzzer, but it was all worth it to him because it meant getting to see Liam in action on the court. 

He’d arrived late, forgetting to set his alarm to wake him from the evening nap he liked to take after he finished his homework. Enduring plenty of scolding from Louis (which was weird since Louis didn’t ever care before if he was late to events) who’d gotten there early with Harry had been bad enough, but seeing how Liam was playing was even worse. It was almost painful to watch. 

Normally, Liam was a force to be reckoned with, a wall of fierce defense. It was no wonder he’d been placed as post position on the team. What he was lacking in height, he made up for in strategic blocking, foreseeing his opponents’ next moves and stopping them before they were able to carry them out. Zayn noticed he was truly the only member on the team who seemed to take his post position so seriously. Not only that, but he was a speed demon. When rebounds failed, Liam was the first one to the other end of the court, large hands spread and arms out, eyes darting to find a weak spot he needed to fill in to defend his basket. 

In those moments, it was like he was king of the court. The wide open space was his to rule, and he’d score points with lay-ups so smooth, he made it look effortless. Zayn didn’t think it’d be overkill to have a spotlight on him. 

Tonight, there was only half of that vigor coming from Liam, though. The crowd was trying to get the team’s spirits up, cheerleaders leading them with chants, seats rumbling when the crowd all stamped their feet at once. 

“Why isn’t he boxing out!” Zayn shouted over the sound of disappointed noises from the home crowd, when, once again, the guest team scored due to Liam’s less than impressive defense. 

Louis turned to him, pausing his nervous nail-biting to scrunch his nose and tilt his head at Liam. 

Zayn shrugged. “What? I did some research on basketball in my free time.”

Louis’ puzzled grin morphed into a devilish one. “Research. . . _ right. _ What other kinds of research have you done, Zayn?”

He earned a hard shove from Zayn for that comment. 

It was right before half-time, and the score was 70-86, when Liam was in that wide-open space on the guest team’s side of the court with only one other opponent. Brad had made a long pass to him, and Liam fumbled the ball when it bounced into his hand, his opponent pouncing on him. Zayn winced at the thud their bodies made as they hit the ground. It turned into a full on brawl between the two on the dirty floor of the court. Zayn could’ve sworn he saw Liam’s biceps quivering with the strength of his grip on the ball. The sight of Liam’s jaw clenched and his teeth bared, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead in damp sections made Zayn clear his throat and shift in his seat. He was thankful he was one with the crowd, otherwise Louis’ hawk eyes would’ve noticed how affected he was. 

It seemed like hours, but was only seconds, before the referee blew his whistle. The referee called a foul and Liam earned a free throw. Brad and a few of the other members on the team patted Liam on the back as he got up, and anxiety sprouted in Zayn’s stomach at the sight of Liam wincing as he moved. 

“Shit, they’re really taking a beating tonight,” Louis murmured from beside Zayn, both of their eyes glued to Liam as he took his shot and missed. “Literally.”

The tension in the crowd was palpable, everyone going quiet. Zayn wanted badly to run to him and ask him if he really was okay, if he needed to sit down. 

The hunch of his shoulders, and the lethargic movement of his limbs as he prepared to shoot again made Zayn himself feel exhausted.

He missed again, and the buzzer for half-time sounded.

Already, Liam looked defeated, deep frown on his lips, and the game was only half-way through. As the team walked off the courts to the locker rooms, Brad’s arm was around Liam’s slouched shoulders, his face close as he spoke to Liam. Whatever he was saying didn’t seem to console him, because Zayn could faintly hear him now as he began yelling, catching a few curse words, his deep voice angry. At the hard shove Liam exited through the door with, Zayn felt a confusing mixture of arousal and intimidation. He’d never really seen him that angry. 

“Let’s get some snacks. You want anything, babe?” Louis turned to Harry, fiddling with a loose curl. 

“Nachos, please,” Harry requested, sweetly, holding Louis’ wrist unnecessarily. 

Zayn didn’t have time to show his teasing impatience with their PDA before he was being dragged along with Louis. He was so busy pondering Liam, ricocheting between desire and concern for him, he only realized they’d bypassed where all the snacks were being held once he saw the sign for the boy’s locker room. He was also still kind of high from when he’d smoked a joint earlier that evening, hoping it’d take his mind off of Liam. Clearly, he hadn’t learned yet that his pining only intensified while high. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Zayn hissed, stopping in his tracks, yanking his hand from Louis’ hold. 

“What?”

“Don’t play coy. I know what you’re gonna try to make me do, Louis.”

“Liam needs to see you,” Louis pressed. 

Adamantly, Zayn shook his head. “I am  _ not _ stepping foot through that door.”

They could hear the coach speaking to the boys on the other side of the wall. At the thought that Liam was sitting there, just beyond the door, flushed and glistening with sweat, Zayn had to clench his fists and jaw to not dissolve into shivers. 

Louis’ eyes pleaded with Zayn. “Z, you really need to talk to him. Let him see you. He was searching the crowd for you before the game even started. He thinks you’re not here. Why d’you think he’s been playing so terribly.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am not. Go on in there, let him see you, and watch Liam’s game improve. He’ll prove me right.”

“He won’t. He’ll prove you wrong and embarrass me in the process.”

At this, Louis lunged for Zayn’s arms, clinging to them like Harry clung to the nearest friendly human when he was drunk, and managed to swing Zayn so he was shoving his friend toward the door from behind. 

“I’ll steal your stash of weed and sell it to all your stoner friends if you don’t do this,” Louis threatened, grunting as he shoved against Zayn with his whole body. 

Zayn’s hands flew out to stop himself from slamming into the locker room door, using it as leverage to shove back against Louis’ efforts. “You don’t--argh--even know where it is!”

Zayn was getting breathless, and Louis was panting, feet sliding on the linoleum floors. 

“It’s in your underwear drawer,” Louis retorted, turning so his back was against Zayn’s, and using his strong thighs to push, puffing hard. 

“I change the location every day,” Zayn grinded out, teeth clenched as he tried to keep up resistance against Louis’ shoving. 

“Ugh! God! You’re impossible!” Louis shouted.

“Better than delusional--Ow! Did you just bite me?” Zayn yelped. 

In that moment, it was all over for him. The shock of Louis’ canines sinking into the meat of his shoulder blade weakened his stance. In a blur, Louis shoved him into the locker room. 

Zayn didn’t think he’d ever seen Louis run away from anything so fast, shoes slipping on the polished floors, arms flailing, his beanie flying off his head, and his laugh echoing through the halls. 

The slam of the locker room door closing behind Zayn made him turn his head. He felt like a mouse in a den of lions--caged. All pairs of eyes on the basketball team were on him. Pairs of eyes attached to sweaty, sullen faces, attached to very bulked up bodies. 

His best friend was the devil. 

Instantly, his eyes locked with Liam’s. Liam, whose forearms were leaning on his knees, had the collar of his jersey clenched between his teeth, those deep brown eyes boring into Zayn’s. His sweaty hair was still lying across his forehead in strands. Zayn itched with the urge to wipe them away. 

Liam’s thick brows flew up to his hairline. As his jaw dropped, the collar of his shirt was released from his hold on it. Zayn’s eyes tracked a bead of sweat that traveled down from his forehead, trailing into his open mouth. He wanted to taste it. 

“Zayn?” Liam practically whispered. 

It was so soft, so vulnerable, he would’ve missed it had it not been pin-drop silent in the room. Goosebumps covered his body as he took in the sight of Liam’s cherry red lips forming his name.

Maybe Louis was god. Who really knew anymore? 

“Hey, kid!” The coach bellowed in the small space. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Research.”

The words flew out of Zayn’s mouth before he even knew they’d been formed in his brain. He wanted to slap himself. 

Liam’s eyebrows rose even higher. Zayn couldn’t stop staring at him. Mainly because Liam wouldn’t stop staring at  _ him _ like  _ that. _

“It’s for a project. It’s about how, like, teammates form bonds under pressure. I thought it’d be good to witness a moment like this.” Where this was coming from, Zayn didn’t know. 

His voice only wavered a bit, and besides the fact he only glanced at the coach once before going back to staring at Liam, he was managing to preserve his relaxed stance.

_ “Well, _ a. .  _.moment. _ . .like this is private. It’s half-time! Now’s not the time for  _ research, _ and this isn’t where we sell snacks. Nothing in here will satisfy any hunger you have.”

“You sure about that?” Zayn mumbled, eyes taking in all of Liam. 

Liam’s cheeks burned scarlet, and he sat back against the wall, looking bewildered and a little bit starstruck, lips still open and eyes roaming Zayn’s figure. 

“Get the hell out!” The coach yelled, pointing at the door. 

“Sure, yeah. I’ll talk to you during school hours, then. About my research,” Zayn fibbed, swiftly making his exit. 

The coach looked like a beet from how red his face was turning, and Zayn liked his body parts attached to his torso, so he made himself scarce. 

He was walking briskly through the dimly lit hall, on his way back to the gym when he heard his name echo around him. 

“Zayn! Wait up!”

Abruptly, Zayn turned around, not ready for a flushed and breathless Liam to skid into him. This time around,  _ he _ was the one to catch  _ Liam, _ his back hitting the cold brick wall as he steadied him. 

Liam flicked his hair out of his eyes, his hot breath washing over Zayn’s face, making him dizzy with desire. The look in Liam’s eyes was one Zayn would remember for the rest of his life. He’d never seen them so open, like his soul was begging for Zayn’s attention, pleading with him to study it. The undeniable expression of awe and adoration made him just as breathless as Liam. 

“You came,” Liam breathed. 

Zayn nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes locking on the drying sweat that had beaded above Liam’s upper lip, perfect little glistening drops. Swallowing down again all the absurd amount of spit collecting in his mouth, Zayn cleared his throat. 

“I always do,” he confessed, throat tight. His fingers clutched harder into Liam’s shoulders, hoping the damp, textured material of his jersey would stop him from doing something impulsive. Like kissing him. 

But it was true. Zayn realized just how long he’d kept his eye on Liam, and he felt overwhelmed by the feelings he had for the boy in front of him. All at once, he was drowning in the flood of affection he’d subconsciously built up a dam against. 

Liam’s gaze was piercing, and his pupils grew to a size that almost swallowed his irises. Zayn’s skin twitched under the pressure of Liam’s huge palms pressing harder into his shirt. The white hot heat of it made him feel like he was burning up, like he’d been the one running around on a court. It didn’t help that he could feel the muscles bunching up under the skin of Liam’s shoulders, even under the layer of his jersey. 

They were suspended in time together, faces so close they were breathing in each other’s scents and exhalations. Never in his whole life, had Zayn felt so affected by anyone. This was on a whole other level than the brief encounters he’d had with girls. Nothing they’d done had ever made him feel close to insanity with lust, like he was suffocating on his own feelings. 

And Liam hadn’t even kissed him yet. 

As if reading Zayn’s mind, Liam made a short, cut-off sound, something akin to a growl or groan, a sound that went straight to Zayn’s cock. The grip Liam had on his waist turned bruising, and the next instant Liam was pressing his lips onto Zayn’s, causing his head to thud against the wall. Zayn’s arms wrapped around his neck, hands fisting into his jersey to stop their trembling. 

Upon Zayn gasping, not ready for the delicious feeling of Liam’s full lips capturing his, Liam’s tongue flicked into his mouth, just a wet brush against Zayn’s own, before retreating. The plushness of his lips made him weak in the knees and had it not been for Liam pressing him into the wall, he probably would’ve sunk to the floor. Finally, he was getting a taste of that sweat, his mouth flooding with saliva at the bitter saltiness of it. If it meant getting more of that flavor in his mouth, Zayn wanted to lick every inch of his body. He wanted to find the spot on Liam that was drenched with perspiration, the taste of determination. He wanted to drink him in. 

He felt doped up with every drug out there, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Liam’s palm slid up his body to cup his cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind. Liam sucked on his bottom lip grazing his teeth so gently over the tender skin, Zayn felt a shiver run up his spine, a shaky breath puffing out through his nose onto the side of Liam’s face. 

Liam pulled back, the wet sound echoing in the dead silence of the empty hall. 

That was better than smoking the finest strain of weed, better than any concoction of liquor, better than any kind of substance people used to get high on. Zayn was already addicted. 

The awe in Liam’s eyes hadn’t left, neither had the hunger, it had only increased. Zayn held his gaze as he tilted his head back against the cold brick, eyes hooded, subconsciously baring his neck as an invitation. The image of Liam’s bared teeth on the court flashed in his mind, and Zayn almost whined with the need to have his skin between Liam’s teeth.

“I promise,” Liam spoke, voice rough, deeper than before.

“Promise what?” Zayn slurred. 

“Promise we’re gonna win. For you,” Liam said, thumb stroking Zayn’s prominent cheekbone like it was made of glass. 

Then, he was jogging away, shoes squeaking with every step. Zayn watched him go, not believing he’d had his firm body flush against Zayn’s only moments ago. 

When he walked up into the bleachers that were re-filling with people, Louis let out a long whistle. Zayn didn’t have the energy for a come back. He was too busy reliving the moment Liam kissed him. 

Both Harry’s and Louis’ eyes were drilling a hole into the side of his head. 

“Ok, either you smoked one  _ hell _ of a blunt in the bathroom, or  _ someone _ did a hell of a good job kissing you senseless,” Louis commented. 

“I will say. . .some of your terrible schemes are not always as terrible as I think they are.”

Louis grinned, self-satisfied. Harry laughed. 

Zayn pointed at him, raising a brow. “Only some.”

“Yeah, okay, alright. You’re always happy to go along with my so-called ‘terrible schemes’. In fact, you’re the mastermind behind half of them. You just don’t wanna give me credit for being the one who thought of the scheme that’s given you a chance to get laid tonight.”

Zayn blushed, shaking his head. 

The flush only intensified when their team, the Wolves, ran back out onto the court, and Zayn’s whole body tensed at the sight of Liam, remembering the feel of his hands on him. 

“God, why’s he so  _ hot,” _ Zayn groaned, flopping onto Louis’ shoulder. 

It felt weird to say it out loud. About a guy. Because, well, he’d never talked much about how attractive he found other guys. Something inside him squirmed with concern, like he might get reprimanded for sounding like that over a boy. It didn’t feel like the same kind of discomfort he felt when he tried to go along with what other guys would say when they found a girl hot. That made him feel like a fake, made him worry he didn’t sound genuine. This made him feel too genuine, exposed. But Louis put a hand around his shoulder and looked down at him, eyes crinkled, smile bright.

“I know, babe. And he’s hot for you,” he winked. He jerked his head toward the court, causing Zayn to see where Liam was looking in his direction. 

This time he got a wink from Liam, a nod and a slightly cocky smile. Zayn felt himself melting into the hard bleacher. 

The game’s direction did a one-eighty. The power and speed was back in Liam’s movements. He was light on his feet, running faster than any of the boys on the track team. Any shot missed by his teammates was immediately rescued by Liam. Rebound after rebound was made. 

When he scored a three-pointer, he got the crowd to scream with excitement as they bypassed the opposing team’s score. Liam rubbed his hands together, one hand doing a zig-zag motion over his torso, hips swaying to an imaginary beat. 

Brad and another teammate were clapping him on the back, but Liam just briefly pointed towards the crowd. Towards Zayn.

“Did he just sign your first initial with his whole body?” Harry laughed, letting out the same kind of giddiness that was building up inside Zayn. 

“Oh, my god,” Zayn croaked, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed by how hot his face was getting. 

“Dude, he has it bad for you,” Harry said, reaching over Louis and patting Zayn on his knee. 

A time-out was called by the opposing team, and when the Wolves wandered to their coach, Liam sprayed water over his head, shaking his head out like a dog. His natural curls were coming through, and Zayn wanted to see what they looked like when his hair was dry. 

He kept looking towards where the three of them were sitting, seeming to ignore what their coach was saying. Zayn was entranced by the deep hollows of his cheeks that formed when he sucked water from his bottle. 

It was like Liam was pulling every move he knew to keep Zayn’s attention on him. As if he didn’t already keep track of his every move. 

What really affected Zayn though, was the fact that Liam was making it clear he really was trying his hardest to win the game for him. Just like he promised. 

When they did win--by four points--Zayn had never screamed or clapped so loud, feeling the pride swell in his chest as he watched Liam hugging his teammates, eyes crinkling harder than ever when Brad put him in a headlock to ruffle his hair. 

No one in the crowd cheered louder for him than Zayn. And the look that Liam sent his way as Louis, Harry, and him were exiting the gym, promised him that Liam had noticed. Zayn had a feeling he was going to be thanked in more ways than one at the party later that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on time next week. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and all the wonderful comments you've left. Makes my day every time. <3


	6. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smut, smut, smutty McSMUT!
> 
> :)
> 
> I changed the rating of this because, ahem...it does get quite explicit. Not so much in this chapter, but the next one. What can I say, the story took on a life of its own.

The buzz of the Wolves winning their game hadn’t worn off of anyone come the time the party at Harry’s house started. Zayn had helped Louis and Harry set up everything, along with a few of Harry’s friends. 

Apparently, giving short notice to a large part of the student body didn’t affect the turn-outs for Harry’s house parties. A half an hour after it started, Harry’s house was packed to the brim with people. Feeling suffocated by the amount of noise and bodies in each room Zayn walked into, seeking out some unpolluted air he could suck into his lungs, but only coughing on an inhalation of more unpleasant teenage hormone stench and cannabis smoke, caused him to walk outside. 

He hadn’t spotted Liam yet, and he was starting to wonder if he’d even come. His hopes had been raised by that incredible kiss, and he was starting to dislike Louis a little bit for encouraging such rash behavior. After all, he didn’t even really  _ know _ Liam. How could he have so blindly given in to his impulses? Was he going to be just another Lover Boy that Liam would drag in to an unlocked bathroom never to speak to or of him again after receiving oral pleasure?

Zayn had taken Louis’ advice and ran with his desire. At first, it’d felt like he’d grown wings, but now he felt like he’d fallen from the sky like Icarus himself and ate shit. 

The adrenaline and excitement that came with the mantra that had been running through his head all evening--‘I kissed a boy!’--was starting to wear off, and the experience of it was starting to lose its wonder as he repeatedly relived it, soured by his anxiety, his fear that he was in way over his head. 

He was used to being a by-stander to people’s drama. All the cliques at school that he floated through like a well-meaning apparition never had much of an impact on him. The stories he heard, was told, never made a dent on him. They weren’t directly attached to him or his life. He was simply there, taking part in everyone else’s supposedly well-organized social class. Like an actor putting on a costume to play the part of an extra, he was important enough that it was noticed when he was present, but distant enough that what little verbal input he had to give wasn’t missed when he wasn’t. 

He’d heard about it all--the heartaches that came with breakups, the immature competition between friends vying for someone’s affection, the tragic stories of self-destruction that were played off as humorous because the narrator was too high to tell it raw--but he’d never lived it. 

Now, he was in the middle of something he couldn’t just emotionally detach from. He couldn’t just smoke a joint and walk away, hoping whoever was in the middle of that mess would find a way out. Because  _ he _ was the one in the mess, and he was finding no exit from it.

He looked down at the dark beer bottle in his hand, turning it this way and that, watching as the porch lights glinted off it. It reminded him of Liam’s eyes in the school hallway earlier that night--how they’d shone at him as if he’d found some answer in Zayn’s gaze. When he swallowed more of the amber liquid, the burn of it couldn’t come close to the heat that had consumed his whole being upon being touched by Liam. 

He was a teenager, and here he was reminiscing over someone with liquor in his hand like he was a forty-year old going through a mid-life crisis. All he needed now was a shiny new sports car he couldn’t afford. 

Loud cheers and hollering boomed out over the thumping bass, and Zayn’s body straightened, ears perked and nerves tingling--like he was spiderman or some shit--with the knowledge that the basketball team had to have just arrived. 

Curiousity won over his melancholic state, and against his rational judgement he went to seek out Liam, walking back into the chaos of the party. Zayn sometimes wondered if Harry threw so many parties to fill the void the absence of his workaholic, business-traveling parents left.

When he spotted Liam across the living room, ears defeaned by the sound of victorious screaming, his breathing faltered. 

Because Liam  _ wasn’t _ just  _ someone _ . He was  _ Liam Payne _ . And Zayn was young, and he could afford to swim in the mess that was his teenage emotions, could take his place as star of a story that he could later tell with passion, no matter what kind of twists and turns would follow after this pivotal moment. 

When Liam’s eyes locked on him, looking past the spray of Harry’s parents’ expensive champagne as it was popped open and directed at him, his large grin dissolved into that slack-jawed expression of amazement he’d worn in the locker room. Zayn knew there was no way Lover Boy had gotten that reaction. That expression was for Zayn only. 

With wild determination, the worries of coming out to his family, to the people around him, of dealing with what would come after, were shoved to the back of his mind. His brain was too consumed with the feral desire to have Liam in his personal space to afford wasting mental energy on the anxieties of moments ago. Caught up in the infectious joy of the moment, he only focused on the desperate want he felt for Liam. He grew a profound hatred for the people standing in the space between them, blocking him from actually having the heady taste of Liam on his lips instead of his mouth watering with the ghost of it. Too many people were around them, so Zayn decided Liam deserved a little dose of his own medicine. 

Wrapping his lips around the rim of his beer bottle, he tipped his head back, letting liquid courage slide down his throat. Had he not been buzzed from alcohol and drunk off of the way Liam’s gaze dragged over him, the way his adam’s apple visibly bobbed, he may have felt silly when he started swaying his hips to the deep bass, the dirty melody shaking the house’s walls. 

Right when Zayn needed Louis, he was there, as if he’d constructed Zayn’s plan to be a tease, to leave Liam gagging for more like what had been done to him in the hallway at school earlier. Relishing in the feeling of Liam’s eyes being glued to his back, despite how many people were trying to get his attention, Zayn smirked at Louis. Naturally, they fell into a rhythm together, facing each other. Louis’s bold eyeliner made his eyes pop even in the dim lighting, and Zayn let himself appreciate the artful way Louis was moving his body, years of being in theater aiding him in being fearless in his moves despite who or how many were watching. When Ollie--one of Louis’ theater friends--joined them, followed by Andy--who Zayn recognized as Liam’s closest friend--something made Zayn’s stomach churn. It was the same discomfort that came with calling Liam hot at the basketball game. 

The thing was was that Louis was openly gay at school, so was Ollie, and it was well-known that Andy was bisexual. And here Zayn was, dancing with them in front of  _ everyone. _ His skin crawled with uncertainty, his swaying movements faltered, and of course, Louis noticed right away.

In the smoothest of moves, Louis pulled Zayn in closer, letting his arms hang over his shoulders, as he grinded against Ollie who pushed against him from behind. A playful smile stretched across Louis’ face from ear to ear, and Zayn couldn’t help but smile back. When he felt Andy press against him from behind, effectlively sandwiching Zayn and Louis between himself and Ollie, his eyes darted around. 

Louis had to talk loud into his ear to be heard over the music, but he was close enough to Zayn that he knew it could only be heard by him. 

“There’s only one person who gives a fuck about what you’re doing right now, and trust me, it’s definitely the good kind of attention.” Louis jutted his chin forward, and Zayn peeked behind him, over Andy’s shoulder, to see Liam’s piercing gaze still on him.

He turned back to Louis, and his grin was all Louis needed to know that Zayn understood. 

He understood that this moment was precious, that nobody was judging him, too caught up in their own haze of intoxicated fun to do that, and there was no reason he should ruin his own. On the off-chance that there was some loser that would start rumors at school about Zayn, he knew Louis would be by his side, just like he promised, just like he’d been this whole time. 

Feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his friend, he cupped Louis’ face, surging forward to give him a soft peck on his cheek. 

Louis beamed at him, and Zayn patted his cheek before extracting himself from the human sandwich, shooting a coy glance at Liam before he made his way to the basement. 

The basement always turned into a pow wow for the stoners, and Zayn was happy to take a hit of someone’s blunt. 

Just as he’d hoped, Liam appeared in the doorwaya few moments later, his eyes immediately finding Zayn. Blowing out smoke rings while keeping eye contact with him, Zayn let the thrill of being pursued wash over him. He’d never felt so sought after, and his feelings had never been returned in the same capacity, until now. 

Zayn let his eyes take in the glorious build of Liam’s body as he moved with purpose towards him, white t-shirt clinging to his soft edges that shifted under the thin material. 

Anytime Zayn spotted Liam, in any environment, his heartbeat slowed, his anxiety that was a constant in the background of his mind fell away, his soul seeming to sigh, ‘There you are’.

“You want?” Zayn asked, offering him the blunt, happy he was pacing himself with getting intoxicated. 

He wanted to be clear minded enough that he wasn’t missing out on the important moments with Liam. That he wasn’t missing out on the fire that burned behind his eyes, the passion that he looked at Zayn with that lit his deep brown eyes up.

“I do want,” Liam said, voice deep, and picking the blunt up out of Zayn’s loose hold on it, only to put it down on an ashtray. He didn’t take his eyes off of Zayn, gaze traveling up and down his body like he couldn’t drink in the sight of him enough. 

Puzzled for only a moment, Zayn realized what Liam meant, as he was led by the hand to one of the guest bedrooms. Even through the floaty feeling of being a little buzzed and having a tiny bit of THC in his system, Zayn could feel his muscles tensing with concern. 

Liam Payne was leading him to a vacant bedroom. Liam Payne wanted him. Liam Payne didn’t know he was a virgin. Liam Payne was a boy. Zayn didn’t know the first thing about making boys feel good. Oh, god, he really was in way over his head.

The door closing behind them made Zayn’s anxiety heighten, because now it was just them two, standing in the middle of a luxurious guest room, with the muffled thump of the bass shaking the walls in much the same way Zayn’s heart was banging against his ribcage. 

“I thought you weren’t going to come,” Zayn murmured, when he couldn’t stand the intensity of having Liam’s eyes on him anymore.

“I guess we’re both proving each other wrong tonight,” Liam replied, stepping closer to Zayn. His voice was so soft and smooth. Zayn wanted to roll himself in it, naked. “I thought you were straight,” he continued, pressing a soft kiss under Zayn’s jaw. “That I was a hopeless romantic that had a crush on an unattainable straight boy. Forever doomed to be pining after someone that wasn’t even capable of looking at me the same way.”

Zayn let himself be moved around, his feet shuffling back with Liam’s calm but persistent hands on his waist, eyes closed as Liam’s gentle kisses on his neck hadn’t ceased. 

“Unattainable? If anyone is unattainable it’s you,” Zayn retorted, the comeback sounding a lot less teasing and indignant than he intended, what with the hitching of his breath. 

Liam had progressed to grazing his teeth along the shell of Zayn’s ear, much to the detriment to his composure. Liam tried to gently push him down on the soft bed, but Zayn’s knees gave out abruptly, and he ended up sprawling on it, legs dangling off the side of it. 

His mind caught up with everything Liam had said, and his heart skipped a beat. Propping himself up on his elbows, he shyly inquired, “Wait. You’ve had a crush on me? Like, for. . .awhile?”

In an effort to distract from the scarlet color blooming goreously over his cheeks, Liam pulled his shirt off. The reaction Zayn gave him must’ve helped him gain his bravado back since a smirk tugged at his lips. 

“Like, for two years, Zayn,” Liam chuckled, and Zayn almost couldn’t hear the words over the buzzing in his ears.

Because really, Zayn had studied plenty of art--the ancient kind, the iconic scultpures done by greek sculptors, the paintings that adorned the ceilings of cathedrals in another lifetime--but seeing the ridges and soft bits of Liam’s chest and stomach, how the faint contours of his muscles deepened with each exhale, made him pity anyone who didn’t get to study this sight. Liam himself was a masterpiece made by the universe, the master of all artists. No other artform could come close. His pecs were just perfectly there,  _ hard _ and  _ firm _ , a place Zayn wanted to lay his head on, a place where he strongly believed his own chest belonged. 

“At least you were aware of it. I didn’t even realize how much I wanted you until recently. I think I might’ve even liked you longer.”

“Well, we shouldn’t let anymore time go to waste, hm?” The sentence was rasped, lust evident in the tone. But Liam’s expression was cautious, and Zayn knew he was silently asking if Zayn was ready for something more. That look of absolute adoration and awe, intensified by Liam’s words, was still there. 

The care with which he was treating him only made him harder in his jeans. Throwing caution to the wind, Zayn decided to use actions and not words. Because why use his lips for something as trivial as talking when they were made to be kissing Liam. 

Putting his weight on his one elbow, he surged up, pressing his lips firmly around Liam and wrapping his free arm around his neck. It was no less life-changing than the one they shared at school, and Zayn was starting to feel an itch grow under his skin that he really,  _ really _ needed Liam to scratch. Liam wasn’t expecting the sudden move, and his stance over Zayn faltered. That was all _ more _ than well and good for Zayn, because he had a shirtless Liam now lying on top of him. Zayn took his small moment of flailing to nip into his bottom lip, relishing the wheeze that broke through Liam’s lungs. His hips stuttered against Zayn’s.

That was enough for Zayn to completely become unhinged, gasping for breaths, and letting out a desperate little sound he didn’t even know he could make as his legs spread unconsciously. Liam was hard, and big, and holy shit did that friction ever feel good.

Taking advantage of Zayn’s sudden loss of sanity, Liam licked into his mouth, and Zayn’s stomach dipped and clenched so hard at the wet slide of their tongues, heat pooling between his legs like slow, hot lava bubbling up at the source and then spreading to the extremities of his limbs that Zayn couldn’t resist thrusting up into Liam. He’d never experienced this, this all-consuming need to be surrounded by someone, to be filled up with them, to absolutely lose himself in them until he was no longer a seperate being, but part of a united entity. 

His blunt nails bit into the soft skin and firm muscles of Liam’s back that shifted beneath his hands. He smoothed them over his hot, hot skin, hands grappling onto his toned shoulders and biceps, defined from hours of baketball training and playing. 

Any kind of normal human brain activity shortaged out when Liam’s large hand fisted into his hair, holding it to the bed as he sucked a bruising kiss into Zayn’s lip. He was going to have purpled lips by tomorrow, and there’d be no shame, only pride. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarraassed at the strange sound that tore from his throat. 

Forcing himself to open his eyes, he looked up at Liam, appreciating that he looked as debauched as Zayn felt. Beading along his forehead was sweat, and his defined collar bones looked dewey with it. In fact, his whole body looked like it was glowing, the sight so irresistible he couldn’t help but touch, trace the ridges, collect the dampness on the tips of his fingers. Above him, Liam looked sinful, mouth open around his breathing that was getting harsher by the minute. In a daring move, Zayn placed his palms on his chest, cupping them, feeling the firm planes. 

“Better than tits, huh,” Liam joked, and Zayn thougt he looked a little overwhelmed at the amount of attention Zayn was giving things others may not have found erotic. 

Moving forward slowly, he began placing tentative kisses on Liam’s stomach, having one destination in mind. Flooding with saliva at the tate of salt on his skin, probably due to the ridiculous temperature of Harry’s house and the arousal, Zayn’s mouth opened hotly against the quivering muscles beneath his lips, flicking his tongue out before getting bolder and pressing it flat, dragging, dragging, dragging it up until he reached the meat of Liam’s pecs. 

The noise that came from Liam’s clenched mouth as Zayn opened his mouth wide to sink his teeth into his right pec made pride swell up inside Zayn. 

“Much better,” Zayn slurred, riculously rubbing his nose along his chest. 

Possessed, that’s what he felt like. Somewhere distant in his mind, he realized that he’d leaned his head against Liam’s chest, staring into his reverent face like he was looking at god, as his hair got stroked by thick fingers Zayn knew could do things that would make him think he’d gotten in bed with the devil.

As if reading his mind, Liam stroked all his hair back, once more, gripping it gently to turn Zayn’s head to the side. With Zayn whimpering into his chest at the bite of a hickey being made where everyone could see, Liam slid his hands down Zayn’s waist. 

He made quick work of pulling Zayn’s shirt off. 

_ “Zayn,” _ Liam whispered, sitting back on Zayn’s thighs, letting a hot palm smoothe up and down, and then raking his nails down his bare torso. “Your body, baby.”

His hand hit the belt buckle as it ended it’s journey down Zayn’s upper body, and Zayn expected more kissing to follow. Instead, Liam’s eyes locked on him, his hand inching slowly down until it was resting on Zayn’s fully hard cock. Zayn didn’t know if the slow pace had the intention of teasing or was a silent request for consent, but Zayn wished Liam would speed it up. 

But Liam’s touch was kept light, stroking him through rough denim so what little pressure he was putting on him was made even more subtle. That wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it was Liam was looking at Zayn’s hard length in his hands with a slack jaw, the tip of his tongue just visible, saliva sparkling at the end of it. Leaning forward, keeping Zayn’s gaze with an intense hunger, Liam kissed him, hungry, but soft. 

Zayn grunted, relishing the taste, but getting more frustarted with the lack of friction on his dick. Liam was going to give him blue balls, and Zayn thought they should at least go on a date first before progressing to  _ that _ kind of sex. 

Liam kissed along his jaw, murmuring into his ear, “What do you want?”

Zayn’s breath sped up just at the sound of Liam’s voice. When he flopped back on the bed, exhausted from keeping his weight on his elbows, he saw apprehension in Liam’s eyes. It became apparent to him that Liam was nervous. Perhaps he thought that Zayn was simply just experimenting, and would like to keep him a secret after this moment was over, maybe he was afraid he’d chase Zayn off since he’d only recently discovered his true sexuality. 

But Zayn just wanted Liam, and he wanted him in every sense of the word. So, he told him. In a lot more breathy, and shaky voice than he exected to come from himself. It was amazing how Liam had an effect on his vocal chords, too. 

“Want you,” Zayn replied, trying his best to grind his dick up into Liam’s relaxed palm. 

“Yeah?” Liam replied, sounding excited, breathless. 

Zayn nodded, the movement intensified when Liam actually started undoing his belt, unbuttoning his pants, unzipping his jeans, shimmying the material down his hips in increments. Reality hit him at once, and he gripped Liam’s wrist, stopping him. “Li, I--I don’t know. . .I’ve never done, like. . .well, anything. With  _ anyone,” _ Zayn admitted, ashamed. He looked down at where Liam’s hands were preparing to reveal his throbbing dick. God, he needed this. 

“I’ll. . .be good, though. I promise. For--for you. Li, I promise,” Zayn spoke, voice trembling, both with nerves and with the restraint it took to hold back from tearing himself out of his jeans and making himself come. 

Liam loomed over him, his free palm stroking with intent, firmer than before over Zayn as he gave him a soft, plush kiss. “You already are, Zayn. D’you know how long I’ve dreamed about making you feel good. Just let me make you feel good, baby.”

And Zayn might’ve melted at the sweet words, but Liam’s hand dipped under his jeans and boxers, firmly wrapping his warm hand around Zayn. 

The feeling was indescribable. Zayn’s body started trembling, his hips jumping and his breathing coming out in frantic punches. He watched in wonder as Liam shoved his jeans down his thighs the remainder of the way. 

“God, but that’s a pretty cock,” Liam whispered, almost to himself as he finally got to see Zayn’s bare member, red and dripping so much precome Zayn felt embrassed. Liam thumbed over his slit, and Zayn threw his head back against the velvety soft blue comfortor, bringing his hand up to his mouth to bite at his finger. 

Liam’s other hand, caressed his cheek, and he pushed down gently on his chin. Zayn gave into the pressure, opening his watery eyes. He was squinitng up at Liam, more than anything, tears pricking at the back of his eyes when the glide against his overheated dick became slippery with how Liam was using his precome to lube him up. 

His skin broke out into a feverish sweat when Liam picked up the pace, adding a twist and flick to his wrist that Zayn thought would be the end of him. The callousness of Liam’s fingers and palm, the slightly rough texture only made everything more sensitive. 

“Keep your eyes on me. I wanna see your face when you come,” Liam commanded, voice like syrup. 

His palm covered the entirety of Zayn’s face and he was keeping his thumb on his chin in a firm grip to ensure Zayn wouldn’t tilt his head again. 

A pitchy groan fell from Zayn’s lips, not believing how much pleasure he was experiencing. “Li-I’m-- _ Li--” _ he tried, tried warning Liam that his balls were drawing up, that the pleasure was mounting. 

“Listen to that.  _ Jesus, _ you’re so  _ wet,” _ Liam observed to himself aloud, referring to the clicking noise of his fist moving over Zayn’s cock, precome steadily dribbling down from his slit and over Liam’s fingers. 

A loud gasp echoed through the room at the words Liam spoke, and Liam’s eyes jerking up to meet Zayn’s, his expression of realization and wonder was the last thing he saw before his eyes snapped shut. His head was digging into Liam’s insistent fingertips where he was preventing him from moving it back. Trembles shook his body, and his toes curled feeling raw and shocked by the intensity of the pleasure that came in waves. 

His ears soon stopped rushing with blood, and his eyes blinked open, long eyelashes clumped with unshed tears, and he marvelled at the fact that he hadn’t dreamed all of that. 

Liam was looking at him, a mixture of emotions that Zayn was too hazy to decipher on his face.

“You’re beautiful,” Liam blurted. 

Liam called him beautiful, even as his hand was covered in come, his dick was still tenting his pants, and his pec had the redness of a hickey slowly forming. 

Feeling light-headed with pleasure, loose-limbed and satisfied, Zayn actually giggled, and he closed his eyes at the sight of Liam’s expression because he didn’t think he could take watching a smile he’d never seen him wearing before morph his face into something so fond. 

He might explode, and that would put a damper on his plans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a continuation of this one. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! :) <3


	7. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story originally was supposed to be like, ONE chapter, haha! But I had sooo much fun letting it take on a life of its own and I'm sad it's ending, but I felt it had lived out its truth (whatever that means). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the rest of the smut and the conclusion, and thank you so much for all the amazing, lovely, beautiful comments. I'm a big softie and cry at compliments and they gave me the motivation to finally finish this, so thank you. And thank you to every silent reader, too, who enjoyed it. <3

Soft lips that were what dreams were made of covered Zayn’s own as his eyes still were closed. A satisfied, sated sound vibrated through his throat as Liam kissed him gently. Hugging his sides with his arms, Zayn pulled him in closer, that hot line of arousal burning a hole into Zayn where it was pressed against his stomach. He wanted to know what Liam’s own response was to release, wanted to see his face when he came. Coming down from his orgasm high was making him feel sluggish, and as Liam licked into his mouth, always gentle and curious, he began feeling as if he had been sent up to the heavens to live on the clouds. Despite that though, he could feel the tremor of Liam’s pent-up arousal in the way he held his hips just so, in the stuttery breaths that escaped his nose and puffed against Zayn’s cheek as he focused on tasting Zayn’s pliant tongue. 

Sliding his fingers into Liam’s hair, Zayn pulled him away from the kiss gently, relishing how Liam sucked on his bottom lip before they were completely separated. He loved that about him, how his very actions spoke of his longing to be as close to Zayn as possible--as if he couldn’t get enough, ever.

Just as Zayn’s eyes were half-lidded with satisfaction, so were Liam’s with remaining lust. He fought the natural inclination to let himself fall into slumber, safe and cherished underneath this boy of solid muscles and gentle heart. Liam was too good of a sight above him, and just as Zayn was about to muster the courage to say something, the other boy lifted his hand up to his lips, fingertips glazing his lips with Zayn’s come before he licked his own fingers clean of it, looking somewhat possessed with hunger. 

Wheezing out a breath, Zayn watched him swallow the opaque substance, his jaw loose as a new pool of arousal began swirling in his belly. Liam let out a guttural groan, and Zayn’s muscles clenched, toes curling at the sound and the sight of Liam’s eyes shutting, looking like he’d just had a taste of some high class delicacy. 

“Zayn,” Liam whispered, eyes still closed, the name a scripture on his tongue. 

Mouth dry from how he was sucking in air, Zayn raised a shaky hand, daringly placing it on the protruding line of Liam’s cock that was still entrapped in the confines of fabric. At this, Liam’s eyes snapped open, whole body jerking at the touch, causing Zayn to pull his hand away. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Zayn rushed out, ashamed of himself, clenching his fist and pressing his arm into the bed where it couldn’t do any harm. 

Liam just shook his head, his palm a soothing reassurance over Zayn’s fist, talented fingers uncurling Zayn’s. With his other hand, he reached up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking. His skin was clammy with cold leftover spit where he’d licked the come off of them, but Zayn pushed up into the caress all the same. Embarrassed that his hand wouldn’t stop shaking, even as Liam held it in his palm, he bit his lip, lowering his eyes to stare at Liam’s erection because it was easier than looking into his searching gaze. 

“You can touch me,” Liam encouraged, voice strained, his thumb drawing circles on Zayn’s open palm. 

He placed his palm, open and spread, on his own thigh, and Zayn’s fingers twitched at the sensation of muscles quivering with the effort to keep himself from falling over on top of him. 

“Please, touch me,” Liam murmured, and Zayn looked up at him. 

He looked desperate, and Zayn had to tell himself this wasn’t a dream, nor was it a joke. This boy was really asking him to pleasure him, even with as inexperienced and shy Zayn was. With Liam’s other palm still glued to his cheek, hot and sticky now with sweat, Zayn slid his hand out from under Liam’s, feeling the rough texture of his jeans as he glided it towards where he could see the clear length and girth of Liam underneath the stretch of fabric. 

By this point, Liam’s hips were trembling, his stomach muscles repetitively clenching and unclenching, and Zayn could hear his breathing beginning to go ragged in the stillness of the hot room. Zayn’s own cock was stirring to life, and he felt too restricted in his jeans that were still wrapped around his calves. What he wanted to do was have any articles of clothing gone from both their bodies, wanted to feel Liam’s every movement against his own bare skin. He didn’t know how many people Liam had slept with, but it seemed he had a natural understanding of how to move fluidly against, with, and for another willing body that was also seeking pleasure at its highest dose.

With a deep breath in, Zayn slid his hand up and over just that much more, relishing in the way Liam’s eyes slid closed and crinkled. When he opened them again, there was a frustration and desperation in his blown pupils that made a shiver run down Zayn’s spine. The line of his cock was bleeding furious heat, and Zayn’s hand felt like it might burst into flames. It wasn’t enough to make him take his hand off, though. In fact, it was quite the opposite, because feeling the soft firmness beneath his fingertips was addictive, and seeing how it was affecting Liam gave him a high he didn’t ever want to come down from. 

Liam’s palm slid from his cheek, down his neck where he rested it on the juncture between Zayn’s neck and shoulder. He was gripping the skin so hard, Zayn wondered if there’d be bruises tomorrow. Secretly, he hoped there would be, something to have as a reminder of an experience he would forever remember in detail, even if Liam’s attraction to him was fleeting and exclusive to this one moment. 

“Take it off,” Zayn huffed, irritated at Liam’s belt when he seemed to be too clumsy to get it unbuckled.

It took a few moments for Liam to register the words, and a flush rose to his cheeks when he got to work freeing himself from his pants. He didn’t speak to Zayn as he climbed off the bed to properly take off both layers, and it dawned on Zayn that maybe, just maybe, Liam was shy about revealing himself to Zayn. It made him feel special, though a voice in his head told him not to flatter himself, and he, in turn, tore off his jeans and boxers. 

Sliding up the bed, so he could prop himself up on the pillows by the headboard, he looked up just in time to see Liam grip the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, Zayn noting how beautiful he looked peeking over at Zayn from under his eyelashes. 

He could feel himself start sweating, excitement and nervousness flooding his every vein. His mouth was dry as Liam got on the bed, in all his naked glory, and Zayn’s desire to feel every inch of his bare skin overpowered any hesitation to pull him down into a kiss. 

Liam made a noise of appreciation at his eagerness, and Zayn took note of that, wanted to make him feel desired, too. His chuckle was muffled by their passionate kisses, goosebumps covering every centimeter of his body as Liam settled on him. The laughter gave way to an audible sigh, which Liam replied to with his own sound of appreciation, rolling his hips into Zayn, testing the waters. It was so different to feel Liam’s cock brushing against his own, more than anything it was good, so incredibly good. Snaking his hand in-between their undulating bodies, Zayn cupped Liam’s balls and fumbled to wrap his hand around Liam’s length, trying to get it wet with precome as he always did with himself to ease the drag of skin on skin. At that sensation, Liam had to tear himself away from their kiss, a grunt of surprise and need that almost sounded pained escaping his swollen lips before he cut it off. He turned his head, lowering himself down as his arms had started to quiver, hugging Zayn to him, their hearts beating erratically against each other. The smell of sweat permeated the air around Zayn’s head, sharp and overpowering, as Liam buried his face in Zayn’s neck. In favor of keeping his noises somewhat contained, he began sinking his teeth into the skin below Zayn’s ear, causing sharp pinpoints of pain to shoot through his body down to his toes that curled from the sensation. 

Zayn’s head was a mess, his whole body filling with so many emotions, his thoughts a neverending whirlpool of concern that he wasn’t pleasuring Liam right, and how amazing it felt to be naked with a boy, Liam’s anatomy so similar to his, but so different at the same time. 

In reality, he felt like he was just awkwardly feeling up Liam’s purple-red cock, and Zayn couldn’t imagine the frustration that must be mounting in him. IT was difficult to try to move his hand with the uneven shifting of Liam’s hips, and Zayn worried he’d never catch on enough to make this experience more than just sexually frustrating for Liam. 

As if he could read Zayn’s thoughts, Liam stopped the undulations of his hips. Zayn knew this must’ve taken great self-control, if the way he was breathing harshly through his nose, and latching onto Zayn’s shoulder with his teeth was any indication. The point of pain was like an encouragement to him, and he realized he’d have to analyze that later. For right now, though, he was trying to get a good rhythm with his hand going. The trembling of his body hadn’t stopped, and when he attempted to smoothly swipe his thumb to collect more precome, his thumb rubbed harshly on an upstroke along the ridges of the mushroomed head. 

“Oh, fuck,” came a delirious grunt. Liam hugged Zayn’s body tighter to him, and he could feel his muscles bunching. Zayn briefly thought how he’d be content to die in that tight space, surrounded by Liam, his scent, and every twitch of movement and muscle in his body.

“I dunno what I’m doing,” Zayn admitted, trying again to replicate that movement that had pulled that delicious tone from Liam. 

Liam’s hips were beginning to shift again, like he couldn’t help it. This didn’t deter Zayn from trying to jerk him faster, more fluidly, give attention to his sensitive head. With what seemed to be a great amount of effort, Liam lifted his head, his hair a complete sweaty mess, damp strands that were starting to curl falling into his eyes, his mouth puffy and ruby red, his white teeth glinting in the dim light as he gritted them together. 

Zayn lost his rhythm for a moment at the sight of him. He quickly found it again when a pained look, a reaction to the loss of friction, flickered across Liam’s face. Then, the continuation of friction on his hyper-sensitive cock caused his jaw to become slack. His head dipped a bit, but he seemed to fight the urge to go back to the crook of Zayn’s neck in favor of meeting his gaze. 

“If it makes you feel any better, this is the best sex I’ve ever had. And I’m not even inside you,” he slurred. “Oh, god,” came a cry as Zayn fumbled at the words, somehow doing something with his hand that had pulled that from him. 

Pride swelled in him, and he re-doubled his efforts, not being able to help that his own hips were moving subconsciously, rutting up into Liam. 

Liam was doing his best to keep his eyes on him, but Zayn could tell it was taking him an inordinate amount of energy. He shivered at the thought of the hot, hard length in his hand instead nudging up inside him, Liam above him just as he was now. They’d be connected so intimately their bodies would be physically and spiritually intertwined. He was surprised that handjobs constituted as sex to Liam, but maybe he was just too lost in what they were doing to make sense. Zayn would have to ask him later. What he had to ask him now was more urgent, more pressing, and the images flooding his head at the idea of what was making him writhe up further into Liam’s strong thigh. 

Liam had begun to start grunting with each thrust up into Zayn’s hand, placing sloppy kisses along his collarbones, scraping his teeth along the salty skin without finesse before he would raise his head to hold Zayn’s gaze again, hips snapping, chasing, athletic. 

“Do you want to be inside me?” Zayn gasped, breathless as he grinded up into the other boy. 

That was it for Liam. His thrusts stuttered, and a long groan was ripped from his chest, pitching at the end. He kept lurching with the force of his orgasm, sweaty hair swinging with each movement, eyes squeezed so tight his face was scrunched and those precious lines by his eyes showed. Zayn marvelled at how his cock jumped in his palm, hand still a blur over his purple and reddened dick, and when Liam collapsed on top of him, tremors still shaking his whole body, he sunk his teeth into Zayn’s shoulder, chest rumbling with a deeply satisfied sound. 

Zayn couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped his mouth as his own dick kicked out a few weak spurts. 

When Zayn hadn’t let up on Liam, the other boy started hissing, jerking his hips away and batting Zayn’s hand off. Getting the hint, Zayn simply looped his arm around his waist. He wasn’t expecting Liam’s hand to drag through the mess of come they’d made together, smearing it into Zayn’s dewy skin. Then again, when did Liam ever do anything Zayn expected him to. 

His stronghold around Zayn had loosened, and he flipped them over languidly, situating Zayn on his side, his arm pillowing his head. 

“Those little sounds were. . .” Liam trailed off, dragging his eyes away from where Zayn’s stomach glistened with their mixed come. He looked exhausted, but in the best way, and that grin that grew on his face made Zayn’s stomach do a weak little flip flop. “. . .well, they were somethin’ else.”

“Embarrassing,” Zayn whispered, curling up to Liam, shy at so much attention after he felt like his whole being had been separated in fragments, studied, and then put back together again. 

“No, it’s _hot,”_ Liam argued. “And, somehow, adorable at the same time. I don’t know how you manage to be both while coming, but I guess it makes sense since you’re naturally like that all the time.”

_ “Liam, shuddup,” _ Zayn whined, nuzzling his head into the other boy’s pec, wincing happily at the feeling of the forming hickeys brushing painfully against the plane of Liam’s chest underneath him. 

Liam went quiet, tracing his mouthwork on Zayn’s chest.

“I like watching you come,” Zayn confessed into the silence, words muffled by Liam’s warm skin. And then, “Like hearing you, too. Just like listening to you, like, all the time.” 

Liam chuckled, lost for words at the confession, giving Zayn a gentle squeeze, before returning to his meticulous tracing. The adoration seeped into the pores in Zayn’s skin, and he let his eyes droop closed, Liam’s slowing heartbeat a perfect lullaby.

“I can’t believe you came twice,” Liam marvelled, running his fingers through the messy pubic hair around Zayn’s softening cock. 

Still embarrassed, Zayn made a petulant whine, and Liam tore his hand away, kissing him, large palm coming up to push away any stray hairs that’d glued themselves to his face. Zayn pushed up into the kiss, something about Liam giving him neverending adrenaline, making the blood in his ears roar as his heart pumped faster. 

Liam pulled away, their wet smack of lips echoing through the room. He thumbed at Zayn’s slick bottom lip, brown eyes so dark in this light, they were swallowing him up. 

“Sorry, I just--It’s hard for me to stop touching you now. I want to see how many times I could make you come. I didn’t expect that.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, trying to distract from the blush blooming hot and mortifying on his cheeks. Here he was post-orgasm, naked with another boy who was also naked, and his body had the audacity to make him blush?

“Yeah, probably cause, like, I  _ am _ a virgin, you know, hence the whole. . .high libido,” Zayn said, logically, brushing the silky-soft strands of hair from Liam’s forehead. 

His eyes blinked adorably as he studied his face.

“Well,” Liam began, shrugging with one shoulder, “if I’m allowed to have anything to do about it. . .that won’t be true for long.”

Zayn squirmed, ducking down and curling up on Liam’s chest. “Shuddup ‘fore I get hard again,” he mumbled into his warm skin. 

When Liam laughed he felt it vibrate through his chest and Zayn’s own whole body. “Well, you  _ did _ ask. I was just answering what my desire was.”

“D’you have any other desires with me?” He asked, yawning, “Or am I just some weird, virgin charity case to you.”

Orgasming twice took a lot out of a person, and Zayn was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. 

It didn’t help that those gentle giant hands of Liam’s were massaging all the bare skin they could reach. With each knot that Liam found to undo with small gentle, but firm circles, Zayn sighed, content to keep up a lazy game of footsie.

“I have a lot of desires I want to fulfill with you, some a little filthy. But I can promise, my  _ intentions _ in everything with you are pure.” Liam’s fingers soothed over the bumps in Zayn’s spine. 

Before his eyes drooped closed completely, Zayn hummed and pressed a sleepy kiss into Liam’s pec, right above his heart. 

\---

The next morning was one Zayn wouldn’t forget for the rest of his life, one he would wax poetic about, one he would relive every day. 

By far, one of Zayn’s most cherished and high-priority hobbies and passions was sleeping, especially when the night before he’d used energy to socialize at a party or hang out with Louis. He wasn’t a morning person and never understood why anyone would do a marathon when they could be in a warm bed, burrowed under covers. He knew that he would never understand athletes and the way they rose with the sun, putting their reserves of energy into jogging and lifting weights before most people had even had a cup of coffee. He admired their dedication to it, admired Liam from afar when he overheard him talking to Harry once about how he’d improved his morning jog time, getting it down to some number that he seemed proud of himself for. 

That’s why when he awoke the next morning to find the spot next to him empty, he wasn’t surprised. It seemed whatever happened last night between him and Liam was simply something Liam had done in the dim lighting of an unfamiliar spare room and would never speak of in the light of morning. Trying to ignore the pit in his stomach, and the realization that he’d have to be okay with being ignored, with not talking about or to Liam like they were anything more than acquaintances who had mutual friends, like Liam hadn’t burned his fingerprints into Zayn’s skin and guided him through his first intimate experience, he buried his face into the too fluffy pillow. 

Maybe that was just it--maybe what they’d done last night wasn’t anything intimate to Liam but was, instead, purely sexual. Purely selfish self-gratification. Maybe Zayn’s inexperience excited Liam, and now that he’d seen Zayn at his most vulnerable he would move on like it’d never happened--their confessions of feelings for one another. 

When waking up, Zayn often suffered from a foggy brain, so he was oblivious at first to the fact the door was open, and Liam was standing in front of the crack, talking in a low tone. The more Zayn breathed in the scent of the other boy that still lingered on the pillow case--and the confusion he felt at feeling Liam’s body heat on the sheet next to him, where it should’ve faded long ago since he must’ve gone for a run, or at the very least drove back home--the more he woke up and finally became aware of Liam’s gravelly voice rising to a volume that he could hear from across the luxurious, large guest room. 

“Leave us alone, will you?” 

Zayn’s eyes snapped open. Oh god. Oh god, what if one of the kids at the party--one of those social-climbers that were always snooping around to discover juicy secrets so they could earn cookie points for being the one to spread the news all over school--had found out about Liam sleeping with him. As he strained to hear, heartbeat pounding in his ears, breathing becoming shallow, he gripped the pillow he was laying on. How could he be so careless? Of course people would wonder where the athlete who’d basically single-handedly won the game last night had gone. Of course they would go searching, even when the party last night was over and done. And what was to stop Liam from letting everyone know that Zayn wasn’t straight? What was to stop him from being the one to spread the news that Zayn had never done  _ anything _ with  _ anyone _ until last night? Zayn hadn’t even come out to his parents, how would he be able to show his face at school if everyone knew his sexual experience  _ and identity  _ before Zayn had even felt out whether he could come out to his family. 

The only thing that calmed him down was the defensive tone in Liam’s voice, the sight of his broad bare torso, positioned in front of the door so whoever was on the other side couldn’t see Zayn’s hair and one eye poking out from under the covers. 

Carefully, Zayn pulled the blanket down from over his ear, curious to actually hear words instead of muffled voices. 

“God. . .he’s asleep. I told. . .check up. . .he’s awake.” Liam sounded irritated and impatient.

Immediately, Zayn could place who the protesting voice belonged to. What was Louis even grilling Liam about, especially in the morning? And why were they talking about him?

Liam quickly shut the door on Louis. He heard him grumble to himself, still facing the door. When he turned around, shuffling his way to the bed with his eyes on the ground, boxers sitting low on his hips, Zayn had to make an effort to swallow down all the saliva that had quickly gathered at the sight of those hickeys on his pec, burgundy red against pale skin. 

It was only when Liam was already half-way on the bed that he looked up, startling at Zayn’s eyes being open and on him. 

“Talking about me?” Zayn quizzed, suddenly embarrassed at the fact he was still naked under the covers. 

Liam cleared his throat, blinking a few times. Stretching his neck, Zayn adjusted his head on the pillow, and Liam’s eyes darted down. He licked his lips, and Zayn wondered if he liked the sight of the marks he’d made on him just as much as Zayn liked seeing his own imprints on Liam’s chest. 

It seemed to take effort for him to look back up, his cheeks pink. He gave an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Louis was checking up on you.”

Zayn made a face, rolling away from Liam and onto his back, shifting out of agitation. As much as he was grateful Louis was looking out for him, he could be such a mother sometimes. 

“Hey,” Liam’s hand burned white-hot on his bicep where it rested for a moment before being pulled back abruptly upon Zayn looking up at him. “I didn’t say anything to him about what we did. He just seemed to kind of. . .already know.”

The mussed hair on Liam’s head, the way his eyes were still drooping with sleep told Zayn he hadn’t woken up all the way. The concern in his eyes made him look young. Zayn felt lucky to see Liam in such an unguarded state. He wanted his hand back on him. Preferably both. Preferably, his whole body on him, actually. Minus the underwear.

Pressing his lips together, Zayn looked away, studying the ombre colored curtains framing the window. “It’s not--s’not that. Louis knows, like, all about how much I--um--like you.”

“Oh,” Liam breathed, and Zayn could hear the relief and smile in it. 

“It’s just I would’ve liked to wake up to you  _ in bed, _ not--fending him off.”

“Oh,” Liam said again, something mischievous creeping into his tone.

Zayn’s eyes shifted, looking disdainfully at the boxers hugging Liam’s thick upper thighs. God, he’d been  _ in between _ them last night,  _ underneath _ them. He looked back at the curtains, shifting under the covers that lay heavy on his half-hard dick, his toes curling at the fresh memory of Liam’s hands on him, his words in his ear, the sounds they’d made together. 

“Would’ve liked to wake up to you  _ naked, _ not in  _ boxers.” _

He squirmed at the feeling of his cheeks burning hot at his own words, knowing they probably looked scarlet to Liam. His heart was speeding up, head dizzy with how reckless and straightforward he was being. But he couldn’t help it. Not when Liam was still with him, when his concern with Zayn’s feelings hadn’t disappeared, when he hadn’t done or said anything to make Zayn feel like what they’d done last night was a ‘one and done’ type of situation. 

He looked at Liam out of the corner of his eye, waiting to see his reaction. Liam’s eyebrows were raised, and he nodded towards his boxers before holding Zayn’s gaze, asking, “What? You don’t like my boxers?”

While last night their words were heavy with emotions, this morning seemed to be shining a light on something playful, Liam’s voice adopting a teasing tone, a hunger in his eyes that reflected Zayn’s own eagerness to explore new territory. 

“Mmm,” Zayn considered his boxers, indiscreet about his blatant ogling of Liam’s impressive girth that was most definitely taking up more space in the confines of the black fabric than it was a few minutes ago. “Not a fan.”

With a challenge in his eyes, he dragged his gaze up to Liam’s eyes, trying and failing to keep his frown from curling into a smirk. The other boy was staring at him intensely, the growing grin on his face matching Zayn’s expression. 

“I better get rid of them, then.”

“You’d better. . .or else.”

Liam was slowly undressing, and as much as Zayn was drawn to look down at his beautiful cock, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight of Liam’s eyes crinkling at the corners, smile getting bigger with each reply they threw at each other like a ball in a tennis match.

“Uh, oh. Or else, what?” 

“Or else, I’ll put on my underwear, too,” Zayn threatened, giving Liam a sly smile as he turned away. 

“Oh, you’re cruel.” Zayn’s skin bloomed with goosebumps at the unexpected soft sting of Liam’s canines sinking into his bare shoulder. “We can’t have that.” 

A kiss was placed in the crook of Zayn’s neck and he squirmed, replying with a weak, “No, we can’t. Then we’d be  _ half-naked _ cuddling.”

In a graceful move, Liam slid under the covers, and Zayn’s body searched for him by shifting back as Liam pulled him into his embrace, his sleep-warm skin flush against Liam’s now blessedly bare body. 

Sighing in satisfaction, Zayn didn’t hesitate to lay his arm over Liam’s own that was wrapped around his stomach. 

“That sounds like torture. Let’s only ever have fully naked cuddling,” Liam spoke into his skin. Another kiss was placed on the back of his neck, and Zayn shivered, happy he was facing away from Liam. He’d be embarrassed if Liam could see how big his grin was when he noticed how deeply Liam was inhaling, his nose buried in his hair. Then again he wasn’t the one sniffing the other boy’s hair, so who here was more embarrassing? 

He was sure they both looked like idiots--fully hard, with big smiles on their faces, and clinging to each other like they were redefining what physical contact meant--but he’d never felt more content. Neither made a move to act on their arousal, the heat that licked up the walls of their bellies like flames on a wooden building, instead choosing to stay still and burn in the intensity of it, sweat gluing their skin together. 

In the silence, Zayn’s mind wandered back to Liam’s reassurance that he hadn’t told Louis anything. 

“Liam,” Zayn murmured. 

The soft, wet sound of kissing in the still room stopped, as Liam’s lips dragged up Zayn’s shoulder, hooking his chin over it. 

“Yeah, baby?” Liam slurred, voice like gravel. 

Zayn’s toes curled at how  _ ruined _ Liam sounded from just kissing his skin, and he wrapped his legs in Liam’s to stop himself from acting on the impulse to grind back on Liam’s hard length that was pressed against his ass. 

“Can you. . .um. . .can you not tell anyone, besides, like, Louis and Harry--cause, obviously, they already know--about what we--about, um, us. . .I mean, about me. . .like. . .being gay?” 

The answering stiffening of Liam’s muscles made Zayn regret every word he rambled. To his surprise, though, Liam squeezed him tighter a moment later. 

“I’d never out you,” Liam promised, voice full of conviction. “If all you want from me is to just be your secret one night stand, I can be that for you.”

Slowly, Zayn turned around in Liam’s arms, struck by the sadness in his soft eyes. “Is that what you want?”

“No. I don’t want to be your secret or just your one night stand. I never have,” Liam replied, caressing his jaw. Then in a tone so quiet Zayn strained to hear him, “Always have wanted more.”

“Good, because I don't want just one night where I got to make you come. I want so much more and not having that sounds unbearable. . .But, I need my parents, my family, to know the truth about me before the whole school does.”

Just the thought of it was difficult for Zayn to process. He couldn’t even think about walking down the halls having ridiculing words thrown at him, only to return home to more rejection. 

“Hey,” Liam said, gently bringing him back out of his mind. “Whatever happens after you tell your family, know that Louis and Harry are always gonna have your back. For what it’s worth so will I. You’re _not_ alone in this,” he promised, daring to place a whisper-soft kiss on his lips. “And if you ever need even more protection, the basketball team doubles as bodyguards.”

At the sight of his shy smile, Zayn’s heart swelled, and he gave a weak chuckle. As he looked at every perfect feature on Liam’s face, the kindness that shone through his eyes with every word, he felt stupid for ever thinking he would betray him. 

Surging forward, Zayn chose to use his lips to kiss him with the passion he was feeling build up underneath his skin than to form words with them. 

What was beginning between them made him want to call his mom up and gush all about Liam. Deep down he knew his whole family would love Liam upon meeting him, and he knew he was getting ahead of himself--he had to come out first--but the way Liam pressed up against him, the way his arms held him with some kind of fierce determination that made Zayn feel more protected than the queen of England, and the way his lips slid against his own with the same passion he was given was proof enough that Liam was just as eager to get there himself. 

When he pulled back, they simply stared at each other, Liam’s hands wandering, caressing, making him let out sighs of contentment. 

His eyes had closed on him when Liam spoke again, tone cautious, but playful. 

“Does this mean I should wait until after you come out to your parents to ask you on a date?”

Zayn’s eyes snapped open, jaw slack, because he still couldn’t believe someone like Liam really wanted him that way. 

“No, I think mid-fully naked cuddling is the perfect time to ask me,” he grinned, smile so big it hurt his cheeks. 

So, Liam did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [fic post](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/post/615024172143411200/take-me-to-your-best-friends-house-by) if you'd like to reblog it!
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


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